


from that moment onwards

by Ceta



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Cuddles, Fluff, M/M, Nesting, Omega!Yuuri, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Scenting, Victor No-Chill Nikiforov, Yuuri's Anxiety makes an appearance once again, alpha!Victor, but its okay cause it gets smothered in, courting, hand-holding, some vague attempts at
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-05-25 05:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14970506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceta/pseuds/Ceta
Summary: “Vitya,” Yuuri laughed, and Victor’s heart stumbled all over its steady beat at that, tripped right into his lungs and knocked the breath right out of him. Yuuri looked at him with humor glittering in his eyes, the sound of his amusement coaxing light and color back into the world around them. Yuuri himself stood unaware at the center of it all - the heart of Victor’s world - bright as the sun but so, so much warmer. “I’ll save you all of my dances.”“Oh,” he breathed, faint and barely there, because all he could think about, full of affection and mounting giddiness, was:Vitya, oh, he called me Vitya, Yuuri just called me--





	1. courting

**Author's Note:**

> For YOI Omegaverse Week 2018 because how could I not.
> 
> I know it's a Royalty-Arranged-Marriage AU, but I'm focusing on the keyword prompts and put this up anyway. I actually started writing this without realizing that one of the AU prompts was royalty and figured it out too late. Haha. Whoops.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! ^^

It started with a hand-drawn portrait of Yuuri with a halo of flowers atop his head.

 

Earlier that week, Yuuri had been told that he and his mother were to travel to the neighboring kingdom to the north to meet with the ruling family there. “There is a boy around your age there,” his mother told him with a secret smile. “Victor is his name. I’m sure you two will be great friends.”

 

Yuuri knew of Prince Victor, had learned about him and the other princes and princesses in his lessons from Minako, and knew also that he was two years his senior. Minako often called him  _ prodigy _ for his innate grasp on politics and people, a sharp contrast to Yuuri’s awkward, if not outright distant, way of interacting with his peers.

 

So while Yuuri wanted to be excited to travel, he was not looking forward to meeting the prince. “What if he doesn’t like me?” he asked his mother often, worry a constant in his gut as the day for their leave drew closer. “What if he doesn’t want to be friends with me?”

 

“He’ll like you just fine,” his mother assured him. She stroked his hair, offered him a smile that simultaneously soothed him and did nothing to help the worry twisting in his stomach. “Prince Victor can’t wait to meet you, Yuuri. Did you know the queen told me he has a surprise for you when we there?”

 

“Really?” Yuuri asked, skeptical. Even though he was young, Yuuri was one to doubt before anything else.

 

“I promise,” his mother told him, and Yuuri went quiet. 

 

The days passed by, Yuuri ever-increasingly anxious as they prepared to leave. His worries only grew during the trip there - a ride for what felt like eons followed by a shorter but no less unnervingly long trip across the sea separating the two kingdoms - and it wasn’t until he stepped down to the port that they were banished altogether. 

 

It was easy to spot the royal family. They were decked in blues and purples, shimmering with silver, and Yuuri had frozen on spot at the sight of them. The shortest and youngest of the three, Prince Victor, broke away to stand before Yuuri with the widest grin Yuuri had ever seen. He held up a piece of parchment up to Yuuri’s face, peeking out over the edge to see his reaction. On it was a detailed drawing of Yuuri adorned with flowers.

 

“It's you!” the prince with pretty blue eyes said as he handed the portrait over to Yuuri, and Yuuri flushed under his bright grin, both embarrassed and pleased that someone so talented drew a picture of him. “Do you like it? Should I change the colors?”

 

In the portrait, the colors of his clothes matched the ones of the flag of his home, deep reds and gold that were familiar and soothing, though the flowers were much lighter, made of blues and whites that twined and weaved together, strung with the green of leaves and stems. It was beautiful, and Yuuri clutched it close to his chest and shook his head.

 

“No,” he said, his earlier hesitation fading. He shyly returned the prince’s grin with a smile of his own. “I like it. Thank you.”

 

Behind him, his mother giggled. Yuuri felt heat creep up his ears and tried his best not to hide behind his new gift.

 

“It looks like we were worried about nothing,” his mother said, patting Yuuri on the head. “Prince Victor here is very kind.”

 

Yuuri nodded, then glanced up at Victor to see him preening under the praise. When he caught Yuuri’s eyes, the slightest hint of pink dusted his cheeks.

 

“Yuuri is very pretty!” he blurted out. Then, as if realizing his outburst, he clamped his mouth shut, the pink in his cheeks becoming a very captivating red.

 

Yuuri averted his eyes down to his shuffling feet, but he was smiling so wide that it hurt. A deep, throaty laugh came from behind Victor - from King Alexandr who stood tall and regal with his queen.

 

“Welcome to our home,” he said, the echoes of his laughter teasing the edges of his voice. “We’re honored to have you here, Queen Hiroko, as well as Prince Yuuri. Victor has been beside himself waiting for your arrival.”

 

“The honor is ours,” his mother said, and when Yuuri peeked a glance up, he locked eyes with Victor, who broke out into a smile Yuuri couldn’t help but reciprocate. “Thank you for having us for the winter.”

 

“And for many winters afterwards, it looks like,” Queen Nadezhda said, smiling. “Vitya has never taken to someone else quite as quick as he has your son. I can only hope that good things are in store for them in the future.”

 

“Yes,” his mother agreed. Yuuri was too focused on Victor and the way lights danced in his eyes to see her warm gaze. “I hope so, too.”

 

 

* * *

 

The next, as it happened, was not too long afterwards. It was a month into Yuuri’s stay when Victor appeared before him in the library in a sudden whirlwind of warmth and too-bright smiles, asking:

 

“Do you like flowers, Yuuri?”

 

Yuuri did, very much so. However: “I do, but they die so fast,” Yuuri admitted, twiddling his thumbs with something akin to embarrassment. “I don’t know how to take care of them.” 

 

Mari always teased him for it, the fact that any plant - even a small cactus she’d gifted him on his last birthday with the belief that he could at least take care of  _ that  _ \- seemed to wilt and die under his diligent - sometimes desperate - care. He’d always been a little self-conscious of that fact, and he was doubly more so now that Victor was asking.

 

“Oh,” Victor said. He shifted on his feet, and Yuuri caught a glimpse of something blue hidden behind his back. Curious, Yuuri leaned over to the right, wanting to see what it was Victor was hiding, but then Victor took a step back, pressed against the great oak door, and said, “That’s - That’s all I wanted to know. Thank you, Yuuri. Goodbye!”

 

“Wait!“ Yuuri started, but before he could say another word, Victor was gone. “... Goodbye.”

 

A little hurt by Victor’s quick retreat, Yuuri stared down at the text he had been reading before Victor came but found himself unable to focus on it. He shut it and set it aside after a minute of rereading the same line, then laid out across the chair on his side when he made sure no one else was around. He curled up and stared at the door Victor all but ran out of. There was… 

 

There was something there.

 

On the floor where Victor had stood was a single blue rose petal.

 

“Oh,” Yuuri said when he went to pick it up. Victor had wanted to give him flowers, but Yuuri’s response had probably made him rethink his decision. It was for the best, Yuuri told himself. Blue roses were native only to Victor’s kingdom, cherished and miraculous. They’d only wilt under Yuuri’s hand, not flourish as they’re meant to.

 

Still, Yuuri’s shoulders drew up to his ears, and he clutched at his chest, his expression twisting in confusion. It hurt to think about Victor’s gift, of not receiving it because of Yuuri’s careless reply. There was something in his chest twisting and clenching and writhing, and Yuuri didn’t understand it.

 

He wanted Victor’s flowers, even though he knew they’d die days afterwards. He wanted them, but Victor probably wouldn’t give them to him anymore now that he knew that Yuuri couldn’t take care of them.

 

A noise escaped his lips, and Yuuri scrubbed at his face to drive away the gloom.

 

It was fine. It  _ was. _ Victor wouldn’t like his gift to go to waste, anyway. Yuuri understood.

 

Weeks passed, and eventually Yuuri all but forgot about Victor's intended gift amidst Victor’s exuberant tour tours of the palace and his relieving kindness, unfurling and opening up under the light of Victor's smiles. The ache that had plagued his chest the first few days was all but gone now, and Yuuri instead relished in Victor’s attention, which he gave in spades. 

 

“.. and if we are meant to be happy,” Yuuri read aloud, Victor a warm presence pressed beside him, “then we will search always for that ef- … ef-fer…” 

 

“Eff-er-ve-scent,” Victor sounded out slowly, his finger trailing over the letters. The book was laid between them on their legs, wide and heavy: a collection of tales.

 

“Eff-er-ve-scent,” Yuuri repeated, and when he looked up for confirmation, Victor nodded his head, smiling. Yuuri looked back down at the book, his cheeks warm. “We will search always for that eff-er-ve-scent future.”

 

They were in the library today after Victor had asked Yuuri where he wanted to go, and after Yuuri had haltingly said he’d like to go to the library, Victor had quickly persuaded Yuuri, who couldn’t bring himself to say no to Victor’s excited eyes, to read to him whatever it was that caught his attention. Victor had helped Yuuri get the book off of the shelf and wasted no time at all setting up on the sofa that Yuuri often used whenever he was reading, patting the space beside him until Yuuri slowly inched closer.

 

Victor smiled at him - and Yuuri wondered if he ever stopped smiling because he always was whenever he looked at Yuuri - and said, “That was amazing, Yuuri!”

 

Squirming at the praise, Yuuri ducked his head and said, “Thank you, Victor, but I- I couldn’t read some words, and you had to help me read it all, so…” He trailed off, not knowing how to refute Victor’s words without sounding rude.

 

“You know two languages,” Victor retorted, and he ducked his head so that he could look at Yuuri’s averted eyes. “Yuuri, you’re so smart! I didn’t learn how to speak  _ Nihongo  _ until last year, and you can already speak  _ Russkiy _ .”

 

“But you know how to speak four language,” Yuuri said. He glanced over at Victor to find him pouting.

 

“ _ Yuuri _ ,” Victor whined. He leaned heavily on Yuuri, groaning, and Yuuri’s hands fluttered about as he tried to figure out what to do with Victor.

 

“Ah- Victor, I’m sorry,” Yuuri tried, but Victor just groaned louder like Yuuri’s apology physically pained him, and Yuuri couldn’t help but break out into a smile. “Victor, you’re heavy - ah, wait, Victor, the book!”

 

Yuuri slapped a hand on the book between them, breathing out a sigh when he managed to save the page they left off on before the book could fully close. When Victor pulled back, he eyed Yuuri’s hand sandwiched between the pages, and his eyes lit up.

 

“Wait here,” Victor said before he jumped up from the sofa and hastily made his way to the door. He looked over his shoulder before he opened it and promised, “I’ll be right back!”

 

“O-okay,” Yuuri said, bewildered, and Victor left with one last smile. He looked down at the book and opened it back to the page they were on, memorizing the page number for later before setting it aside. 

 

It wasn’t long before Victor came back, but he only stuck his head through the doorway to catch Yuuri’s attention and said, “Yuuri, close your eyes.” When Yuuri hesitated, Victor added, “Please.”

 

With a glance at Victor, Yuuri shut his eyes. What was Victor doing? What did he leave for, and why did he ask Yuuri to close his eyes? A bit wary, Yuuri played with the edge of his shirt, listening as Victor came closer until he was standing right before Yuuri.

 

“Okay,” he said, “you can look now.”

 

Yuuri did, and the first thing he saw was Victor’s pink-cheeked grin. He looked down and saw that Victor was holding something out to him, and what Yuuri noticed first was the blue rose, pressed and crisp.

 

“It’s a bookmark,” Victor said when Yuuri stared for a moment too long in silence. He shifted on his feet, and when Yuuri made no move to touch it, much less take it, he added, “I made it for you.”

 

Yuuri looked up at him, eyes wide with surprise. “For me?”

 

Victor nodded, glad that Yuuri was saying something. “I wanted to give you flowers, but then you said… so I tried to think of something else - “ Yuuri blinked, speechless “ - and then Mama said that I could press them and still give you flowers, and you wouldn’t even have to take care of them.”

 

“Oh,” Yuuri breathed, something warm curling in his chest. He took the bookmark with both hands, unable to fight back his smile when he looked up at Victor. “Thank you so much, Victor. I love it.”

 

The pink in Victor’s cheeks darkened, became something rosy and delighted. “I’m glad.”

 

* * *

 

 

When it came time for Yuuri to leave, he was reluctant. Victor, too, couldn’t bring himself to smile as bright as he usually did.

 

“I’ll send you gifts,” Victor assured. “We’ll see each other next winter.”

 

Yuuri nodded, clutched his mother’s sleeve, and tried to smile, too. “Next winter,” he promised, and something more genuine pulled at Victor’s lips. “I’ll give you things, too.”

 

Victor laughed. “I’ll hold you to that. Until next winter, Yuuri.”

 

“Until next winter.”

 

The years passed by like that: spring, summer, and autumn spent at his home or traveling to other lands with his father or mother, sending Victor trinkets or books or anything he thought Victor might like as time crawled by, and receiving some in turn; winter was spent at Victor’s home, in Victor’s care, under his small touches that made Yuuri flush, sometimes, when he thought about them too much. Yuuri couldn’t remember being happier, knowing that somewhere Victor was waiting just as Yuuri was for him.

 

One summer, Victor sent him pressed dandelions - bookmarks, again, because he knew Yuuri’s appetite for literature was insatiable and so gifted him ones with different flowers each year.  _ They are weeds, supposedly,  _ Victor wrote in the accompanying note,  _ but they are beautiful all the same. I thought they suited you. _

 

Usually, Victor’s little notes never failed to make Yuuri feel warm - whether it be out of flattery or embarrassment - but this time Yuuri read the note and felt the grip of something unpleasant but familiar take hold of him. He brushed his fingers over one of the bookmarks, traced the stem of the dandelion up to its golden petals, and felt chilling uncertainty touch his heart. It was beautiful, that much was certain, but…

 

_ Weed _ , Victor had wrote, and Yuuri fixated on that, turned it over in his head and murmured it aloud. He looked over at his latest read lying on his desk, marked with a pressed, purple chrysanthemum, then back to Victor’s latest gift and bit his lip in indecision.

 

In all the time they spent together, Victor was never cruel to him. He’d tease, sometimes, just to make Yuuri color pink, but never more than that, never anything that would intentionally hurt Yuuri’s feelings the way the implications of  _ weed  _ and  _ they suited you  _ churned in his gut. With that in mind, a tremulous hope, Yuuri switched out the bookmarks and tried not to let the bright gold of the dandelion hurt his heart too much.

 

He would ask Victor. Later, when winter came. Now, Yuuri penned him a letter expressing his thanks and sought his mind for something Victor might delight in receiving, giving into the distraction.

 

Victor sent him a handful of other gifts during the time between: a light-weight blanket that held heat with surprising ease after Yuuri’s letter about the chilly autumn, a book about the lands further west where his friend Christophe lived, a glass figurine of a dog the length of Yuuri’s forefinger wrapped in several layers of protective fabric, and a single blue rose at the start of winter with a note attached.

 

_ I cannot wait to see you again _ .

 

Spirits lifted, Yuuri prepared for his stay with renewed vigor and resolved to talk to Victor about the dandelions once he got there just to be rid of the stubborn thoughts that clung to his mind. Unfortunately, when he and his mother stepped down onto the port, greeted by only the king this winter, Yuuri knew something was wrong.

 

“Welcome back,” the king greeted them. His mother replied back, but the response was lost on Yuuri, who stared at the king beseechingly. He smiled at him, kind but tired, and told him, “Victor has been ill, so he wasn’t able to come and greet you this time, and Nadezhda stayed back to look after him.  _ Tell Yuuri I said hello and that he shouldn’t worry _ , he said.”

 

Yuuri opened his mouth, searched for words to say in reply, but could only bring forth a quiet, “Oh.”

 

“Be at ease,” the king told him, still smiling. “Victor has made sure that you will be able to visit him even in his ill state. Clearly, he is not so sick that he cannot meet with his intended.”

 

Yuuri colored at that -  _ intended _ , a stark reminder of why Yuuri and Victor met in the first place - and bowed his head. “I hope he recovers quickly.”

 

“Victor is strong, and stubborn. He will pull through just fine.” The king brightened. “Now then, let us go to the palace.”

 

As the king strode ahead of them, speaking in low tones to the accompanying knight that came with him, his mother pressed close and patted his arm. “Don’t look so down, dear,” she said, gentle. “Victor will be all right.”

 

“I know,” Yuuri said, because he  _ did  _ know. Victor was healthy and strong, like the king had said, and was never one to stay sick for long, if at all. Yuuri couldn’t help but worry anyway. “I’d like to see him soon, though.”

 

His mother giggled as Yuuri helped her up into the carriage. “Of course you do, dear.”

 

Lost in thought as he was, the trip went by swiftly, and before long Yuuri was comfortable in the guest room set aside for him for these annual winter visits. His mother had a separate room closer to the king and queen’s quarters for the sake of convenience, though she had left him with a kiss to his cheek and a promise to see him at dinner after she was finished speaking with King Alexandr.

 

Restless, Yuuri grabbed a book from his luggage and went in search of Victor with the help of some passing maids who pointed him in the right direction until he realized that he was headed towards Victor’s rooms. When he stood before the grand, polished bedroom door, he hesitated for a moment before he knocked.

 

“Enter,” Victor said from beyond the door, his voice rough and faint. 

 

Yuuri pushed the door open and immediately spotted Victor propped up against the head of his bed with dozens of pillows. Several duvets were spread across his lap, layered and heavy, though Victor himself only wore a thin dress shirt that looked soaked through with perspiration. Victor’s eyes lit up at the sight of him.

 

“Yuuri,” he said, tangible warmth in his voice as a weak smile pulled at his lips. “How are you?”

 

“I should be asking you,” Yuuri retorted as he sat down in the armchair by Victor’s bedside. He set his book in his lap and let his eyes roam Victor’s weary face, felt something twist at how visibly exhausted this illness was making him. “Are you all right, Victor?”

 

“I will be,” Victor assured him. His eyes slid over to the book in Yuuri’s lap, and his demeanor brightened. “You’re using the bookmark.”

 

Yuuri started. “I.. “ He bit back the question on the tip of his tongue. This was no time for that, not when Victor was as ill as he was. “Yes, I - I am.”

 

“Do you like it? When Christophe showed the dandelions to me, my first thought was of you.” Victor released a heavy breath and smiled still as he gaze at Yuuri. “Did you know these were growing in a place of drought? Amazing, aren’t they, these willful flowers. Stubborn like someone I know.”

 

Yuuri looked down at the bookmark and felt his chest hurt for reasons other than the familiar spite of  _ weed _ . “... Oh,” Yuuri breathed, and he felt like the biggest idiot to walk this earth. Heat touched his cheeks when Yuuri covered his face with both hands to hide the relieved smile that pulled at the corners of his lips. “ _ Oh _ . I am such an idiot.”

 

Face covered, Yuuri didn’t see the way Victor sagged against the pillows, the way his head tipped back as if in pain. “I can assure you that you are very smart, Yuuri,” Victor said, voice strained. He clutched at his chest, let out a gasp that had Yuuri jolting upright, and had the gall to laugh even as he fought for breath. “Yuuri… can you call for - for Mama.”

 

With sweat beaded across his brow, Victor was breathing heavily despite his stubborn smile, nearly curled into himself as he fisted the silk of his shirt. Yuuri didn't want to leave with Victor in this state. “Victor- “

 

“Please,” Victor cut in. His smile faltered. “When you bring her… please don't come in.”

 

Yuuri paused, and when it was certain that Victor would not back down from this, Yuuri forced himself to back away. “I - I won't, if that's what you wish.”

 

“Thank you, Yuuri.”

 

With one lingering glance at Victor, Yuuri sped through the doors and nearly collided into Queen Nadezhda just down the hall in his haste. She steadied him with a gentle hand on his shoulder and looked at him with kind eyes. Behind her, an attendant carried a small, covered basket, probably containing medicine for Victor.

 

“What is it, Yuuri, that has you running down the hall?” she asked, then, as if realizing where Yuuri had came from, her eyes sharpened. “Is it Victor?”

 

“Yes, Your Majesty, he’s- “

 

“Presenting, I take it,” the queen finished, blunt as could be. She strode passed him in a flutter of silks, motioning for a startled Yuuri to follow, and told him, “I anticipated this once he fell ill. It’s not uncommon, see, for sickness to precede the actual presentation, though it isn’t common for it to be so taxing like it is for Victor. I warned him before you arrived that his presentation could happen any moment, and it looks as though it decided to start now.”

 

_ Presenting _ , Yuuri thought. That was why Victor asked him not to come in. He followed the queen almost mindlessly, feeling faint, but he tried his best to catch what she was telling him.

 

“Unfortunately, he will be weak,” the queen said as they arrived back to Victor’s room. Yuuri hesitated when the queen opened the door without preamble, and he caught the slightest glimpse of Victor curled on his side, the blankets and duvets thrown haphazardly away from his heated body. The queen looked back at him when she realized Yuuri wasn’t following. “Is something the matter? You won’t affect or be affected by an alpha in rut, unpresented as you are, if that is what you’re worried about.”

 

“Victor asked me not to come inside,” Yuuri hedged, feeling a touch off-footed by the queen’s raised brow.

 

She glanced over to Victor, who was quiet but for his harsh breaths, and said, “Very well, then. If you would like, you can wait there. I will be done in just a moment.”

 

The door swung shut before Yuuri could reply, but true to her word, the queen appeared a few minutes later with a reassuring smile. “He will be in there for some time, given the intensity of his rut, but he will be fine, Yuuri.”

 

Yuuri sagged in relief. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

 

“Think nothing of it,” the queen said. “Come, let us find Sasha and Hiroko and tell them of Victor’s presentation.”

 

Days dragged by after that, Yuuri wandering the halls of the palace from sheer restlessness. The library did little to soothe his nerves, and the garden reminded him too much of Victor to keep his thoughts from straying back to him. Occasionally, he’d pass by Victor’s room just to quell some anxious part of him, but more often than not Victor was silent, or his muffled moans had Yuuri flushing and scurrying away, feeling like the worst kind of voyeur.

 

On the fifth day, Yuuri woke up to a bundle of flowers delivered to him by one of the servants.

 

“From his highness,” the young man said. “He asked for your presence in the central library as well.”

 

Taking the bouquet, Yuuri thanked and dismissed him with the assurance that he would meet with Victor promptly. He played with the ribbon that bound the stems together as he tried to will himself out of his room, thoughts that had crossed his mind these passed few days coming back in a rush.

 

Victor was an alpha now. How should Yuuri act towards him? Before it’d been easy; they had both been unpresented, both nearly the same in status, and while they were arranged to be wed some time in the future, their friendship had been put in higher regard. Would that change now because of Victor’s presentation?

 

Yuuri thumbed one of the petals, drew strength from the fact that Victor had gifted him flowers like he always did, and made his way to the library. Thankfully, the walk was short, but as Yuuri stood before the closed doors, he felt himself hesitate. His fingers brushed against the brass handle, but before Yuuri could open the door himself, they burst open from the inside.

 

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed, eyes glimmering with their usual light now. He looked a bit harried, like he’d run his hands through his hair several times - something he only did when he overthought things - and Yuuri wondered what happened. “I’ve been waiting for you. Come in!”

 

Yuuri started, hesitantly meeting Victor’s kind blue eyes before dropping them down to somewhere over his shoulder. Something like bashfulness had heat settling in Yuuri’s cheeks at the intensity of Victor’s gaze. “Ah - yes.”

 

He took a step forward and nearly jumped when Victor’s hand closed around his, leading him into the library with a secretive smile on his lips. “Close your eyes,” he said, and Yuuri had the strangest sense of deja vu, thought of a Victor a few years ago who’d given him the first of many bookmarks, but shut his eyes. They came to a stop, eventually, and Victor squeezed his hand. “Let me go get your gift.”

 

“Gift?” Yuuri echoed. He adjusted the grip he had on the bouquet of flowers from earlier. “Weren’t the flowers…?”

 

Victor laughed. “No, no, not those. Those were just because I thought they’d make you happy - “ Here, Yuuri blushed, hot and dizzying. Victor’s voice went a bit distant as he turned and walked away. “ - This is my actual gift. You always said that winters here were cold, so I… I had something made for you.”

 

It took a moment for Victor to make his way back to him, but when he did he murmured a quiet, “Don’t move,” and draped something over his shoulders, clicking a clasp into place. 

 

It was heavy but soft to the touch and incredibly warm, and it ended somewhere at his calves. Shifting, Yuuri didn’t need to open his eyes to know that it was fur that brushed against the skin of his neck and cheeks.

 

Victor didn’t say anything for a long moment, and Yuuri was wondering what it was that made him pause when Victor finally spoke up, his voice barely above a whisper: “You can open your eyes, though I’m afraid that I didn’t think to bring a mirror.”

 

Opening them, Yuuri first noticed the color: blue, just a shade lighter than the roses Victor had given him. The fur collar that tickled his skin also lined the hem of the velvet cloak, pure white that looked as soft as it felt. The inside was lined with silver silk, and Yuuri allowed himself a moment to admire it all before a realization came to him.

 

These - these were Victor’s colors. The blues and whites and silvers of the Nikiforov family.

 

“A-Ah,” Yuuri managed to choke out, determinedly avoiding Victor’s gaze. His face was unbearably hot, and he clutched the flowers to his chest with both hands, unsure if he should even be  _ wearing  _ this cloak, much less touching it. “This is - beautiful, Victor, but I can’t possibly- “

 

“You look wonderful.” The breathless quality to Victor’s voice had Yuuri meeting his eyes in surprise if nothing else. Victor was staring at him as though he was made of miracles, color high in his cheeks and in the tips of his ears. His lips parted as if to say something, but all he did was suck in a breath and continue to stare at Yuuri with his mouth agape.

 

Yuuri squirmed under his gaze, and he was certain his face was red-hot.

 

“Resplendent,” Victor murmured, awed. Unable to face Victor’s mortifying honesty, Yuuri hid behind the bouquet of flowers. “Captivating, absolutely beautiful.”

 

“Victor…”

 

Gentle hands drew the flowers from his face, and Yuuri was met with the full force of Victor’s gaze in close quarters. “Amazing,” he said. He leaned in close, nearly bumping their foreheads together, and whispered, “You smell like…” He cut himself off with small, quiet laugh. “Wow.”

 

Yuuri blinked.  _ Smell like? _

 

Before Yuuri could say anything, though, Victor stepped away. He was smiling, but there was a strained quality to it that had Yuuri both curious and confused.

 

“Keep it,” Victor said, his words nearly a plea.

 

With Victor looking at him like that, Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to tell him no.

* * *

 

The next year, it was Victor who caught onto Yuuri’s sudden heat before it could fully pull him under. He didn’t remember much aside from the searing heat in his veins and in his gut that had his legs buckling beneath him, though he did remember the feeling of Victor’s arms firm around him and hearing Victor’s voice barking orders to the people around them, sharp and powerful, before everything went hazy.

 

Yuuri’s heat passed with no incident other than his embarrassment in the aftermath, bare and sticky and surrounded by toys provided, probably, from the queen, and though he was quick to bathe himself, warm water and soothing oils did little for the ache between his legs and in his overworked hands, and so they remained a stark reminder in the days afterwards.

 

The world, too, seemed to change with his presentation. Everything smelled stronger, sharper, and things that he previously hadn’t been able to smell at all suddenly had that depth to them. People had an additional, unique scent to them that Yuuri tried to get used to, his new sensitivity making relatively light smells strong enough to daze if he breathed in too much. 

 

Mostly, though, it was him that changed. There was an urge in his chest, sometimes, that pulled him to stand close to anyone around him - Victor, mostly, as he was nearly always the one closest to him in any given moment of the day. At first, he tried to curb it and fought the urge back, embarrassed by his clinginess and mortified by what Victor might think, but Victor had quelled his worries frighteningly easily.

 

“I don’t mind,” he had told Yuuri on a particularly bad day, when all Yuuri had wanted to do was curl against Victor and stay there. He had taken Yuuri’s hand from where it’d been curled into a white-knuckled fist at his side, tugged him closer until he could wrap both arms around him, and nuzzled into Yuuri’s hair. “Is this all right?”

 

It had felt so satisfying being enclosed in Victor’s warmth and scent that Yuuri had all but melted against him, answering his question with a low, unconscious purr.

 

Despite their new status as alpha and omega, and like after Victor’s presentation the previous year, there was little that changed between he and Victor. Yuuri waited and waited and waited, anxious for the moment where everything between them would change, but it never did - at least, not in the way Yuuri thought it would: terribly and painfully.

 

“Are you sure this is all right?” Yuuri asked when Victor pressed a carefully wrapped box into his hands. Another gift from Victor’s travels during the rest of the year, one Victor had alluded to often enough in their letters that Yuuri had spent nearly an entire season waiting in anticipation for it. Now, though, reservations churned in his gut. “Now that I’m presented, others might think…”  _ That you're courting me,  _ Yuuri couldn't bring himself to say. 

 

Victor gave him an amused look and said, “Yuuri, we’ve been promised to each other for years now. I think I’m allowed to spoil my intended with gifts.”

 

“Yes, but…” He bit his lip, tried to sort out his worries enough to give voice to them. “It doesn’t mean you have to, or want to. I’m sure- in your travels, that you’ve met someone that - someone that you’d like to properly court, as an alpha.”

 

Age-old instincts were difficult to break out of, after all. It was common for alphas to court their intended half, whether they were an omega or beta or even another alpha. It was a much more serious affair than what he and Victor had been doing these past few years, even with all the thought and heart Yuuri had put into each of Victor’s gifts. 

 

Courting was a promise, to please and provide and protect, a show of unfailing love. To make Victor continue with their gift-giving now, despite what they were to each other and because of what they were now, would be selfish of Yuuri after the kindness Victor had given him. Victor should be able to court someone he truly cared about, regardless of their arranged marriage and no matter how it hurt Yuuri to think about it. 

 

“I did meet someone, yes,” Victor said, breaking Yuuri out of his thoughts with a jab to his heart. “Not on any of my travels, though.”

 

“Oh,” Yuuri replied. Then, because proof that Yuuri’s worst thoughts had been true was not enough ammunition against his heart, he asked, “Are you happy with them?”

 

Victor smiled, a soft and wondrous thing that had Yuuri averting his gaze to his feet in shame. “Always.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yes. I love him.”

 

“Oh,” Yuuri said again. “You should court him, then. I can… I can talk to my mother and - “

 

“I’ve already spoken with her,” Victor cut in, and Yuuri could hear the smile in his voice. “She gave me her permission as well as her blessing to begin the courtship, though it was mostly out of propriety than anything else. I’m certain I’ve been courting you ever since we first met, Yuuri.”

 

“Oh,” Yuuri whispered before the entirety of Victor’s words caught up to him, but when they did he jerked his gaze back up to meet Victor’s twinkling eyes. “You- What?”

 

“I would like to court you, Yuuri,” Victor said plainly, and even then Yuuri couldn't bring himself to believe it. Stepping closer, he settled his hands atop of Yuuri's where they clutched the box close and looked at him with uninhibited adoration in his eyes. “Properly, from now on, as alpha and omega, and as Victor and Yuuri, because I love you.”

 

Yuuri's heart hurt. His hands were trembling underneath the steady heat of Victor's hands. “Not because you don't have a choice?” he asked in a small voice. 

 

“I had a choice,” Victor said, soft, “and I chose you.”

 

Breathing in a shuddering breath, overwhelmed, Yuuri dropped his gaze to their hands and squeezed his eyes shut. Victor stroked his thumbs over the back of Yuuri's hands, a comforting gesture that did wonders in soothing away Yuuri's thoughts. 

 

“I chose you, too,” Yuuri whispered, a secret between he and his mother when, one winter, Yuuri had been helplessly homesick and frustrated beyond measure by every thing and person that pulled Victor away whenever they managed to find time to spend together. She'd given him a choice: to return home now and back to its warm, familiar colors, or to stay the rest of the winter with Victor and his family and return later. 

 

She hadn't spoken of any consequences then, had just asked which one he’d wanted, and Yuuri had been half a breath away from telling her  _ home _ when he remembered Victor’s desperate promise of  _ later, Yuuri, I'll find some time, so please wait a little longer _ .

 

“I… I'd like to stay,” Yuuri had quietly told her, ducking his head under her warm smile. “I want to spend time with Victor.”

 

“Then we'll stay,” she had said, and something about the way she had looked at him seemed like fond approval, like Yuuri had passed a test of sorts. 

 

(She had never said, and Yuuri had never asked, but he thought, sometimes, that he wouldn't have ever seen Victor again if he'd chosen home.)

 

“Then…” Victor began, something achingly hopeful shining in his voice. “Will you… May I court you, Yuuri?”

 

Yuuri nodded. “Yes,” he whispered. He brought himself to look up at Victor’s brilliant eyes and managed to say, “but only if you let me court you, too.”

 

“Of course,” Victor breathed, smiling like Yuuri’s acceptance was the equivalent of all the world’s riches. Yuuri blushed under his gaze, and Victor hesitated for a moment before he asked, “Will you open my gift?”

 

The box in his hands was an unassuming white, tied together with a deep blue ribbon. Overall, it was plain by Victor’s standards, but Yuuri knew that it was only a cover to hide the surprise within it and felt a touch excited to open it. He stroked the silk ribbon with a thumb, wondering what it was that Victor gave him as his first official courting gift.

 

Victor’s hands slid away from his to fall by his sides. “Go on,” he urged, and despite it all, Yuuri could hear the faintest edge of nervousness in his voice.

 

Curious now, Yuuri carefully slid the ribbon away and opened the box. It was lined with velvet, and settled in it was a jeweled, golden collar. At its center, sapphires and garnets glimmered in the light, and smaller white diamonds were sprinkled around them. Embroidered near the back of the collar, on the inside where it would press right against the nape of Yuuri’s neck if he were to wear it, was the word  _ Mine _ .

 

Yuuri flushed red from the tips of his ears all the way down to his chest.

 

“This - This was what you were talking about in your letters?” Yuuri stammered, flustered beyond words. He could hardly think with Victor’s obvious intent to  _ claim him  _ right in his trembling hands, and he bit his tongue and swallowed down the foreign whimper rising up his throat. “A… A collar?”

 

“Yes,” Victor said carefully. Yuuri could feel his eyes on him, searching his reaction as Yuuri reached for the collar. “I wanted to make it known that you were - that I was courting you.”

 

“Oh,” Yuuri breathed. 

 

Collars themselves weren’t uncommon during courting, though because they solidified the fact that someone was being propositioned, and that that someone  _ accepted  _ the other as their mate, it wasn’t usually until in the end of the courting process that a collar was worn. For Yuuri to receive one now, as his first gift - that was Victor’s declaration, confident and unwavering:

 

_ He’s mine. _

 

“You don’t have to wear it if it makes you uncomfortable,“ Victor started, only for Yuuri to cut him off.

 

“I will.” When he looked up from the collar to Victor’s wide eyes, Yuuri succumbed to the heat in his cheeks and asked a little more bashfully, “Can you help me put it on?”

 

“I’d love to.”

 

When Victor secured the collar around his neck, Yuuri felt warmth and sheer giddiness overtake him. He clutched at Victor’s hand, pressed it against the collar and slipped his fingers between his, smiling at him all the while. 

 

“You’re beautiful,” Victor whispered, reverent, and he reached up with his free hand to cup Yuuri’s cheek. His gentle touch was enough to have Yuuri’s heart bursting. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

 

The heat rushing back to his face made Yuuri’s head dizzy. “We’ve only just started courting - “

 

“We’ve been courting each other ever since we were hardly taller than Papa’s shoulders,” Victor reminded him with a grin.

 

“That doesn’t count,” Yuuri retorted, then broke out into a smile when Victor pressed their foreheads together.

 

“I’ve spent  _ years  _ giving you gifts from my heart, Yuuri,” Victor said. “If that isn’t courting, then please, tell me what is.”

 

“Well,” Yuuri started, his smile going shy, “you can start with a kiss.”

 

Victor blinked, caught off-guard, before he laughed, bright and wonderful.

 

“Gladly,” he said, and swooped down to claim Yuuri’s lips.

 

 


	2. scenting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the point where I admit I have no idea what I'm doing.

 

Victor didn’t know what possessed him to press his wrists to the cloak he had had made as a gift for Yuuri. It was an itch, this urge, insistent and demanding to be scratched, and it was only after the cloak smelled of Victor’s new alpha scent that it went quiet.

 

He stared at the cloak in growing disbelief. He had just  _ scented  _ it, marked it as  _ his  _ with his scent, and he was going to give it to  _ Yuuri _ .

 

A tingle of pleasure tickled his heart at the thought, and Victor ran a hand through his hair with a quiet groan. “Forgive me, Yuuri,” he murmured, conflicted. 

 

Looking down at the cloak, he thought it’d be better if he didn’t give it to Yuuri. After all, it would be more of a claim instead of a gift, and Victor, for all of his newfound alpha urges, didn’t want to do something as intimate as this without Yuuri’s permission. Yuuri wouldn’t like being scented by him. Victor knew Yuuri wouldn’t like it - why would he, when Yuuri could have any other person on their knees with just a glance their way?

 

Victor fingered the blue velvet, the silk lining. Still… A gift was a gift. He’d give it to Yuuri and take care not to let the urge to scent him or anything belonging to him overcome him for the time being. Victor could do that much, at least.

 

Or so he had thought.

 

When he wrapped the cloak around Yuuri’s shoulders, clicking the clasp into place, it took everything in him not to wrap Yuuri in his arms. Unpresented as he was, Yuuri didn’t smell like anything, but the void where his scent was supposed to be was filled with Victor’s scent the moment the cloak enveloped him. It was helplessly satisfying, being this close to Yuuri and only smelling Victor on him; heady, even.

 

“Amazing,” he murmured, and nearly slipped when he added, full of breathless wonder, “You smell like…”

 

_ Mine _ , he almost said, then felt guilt rise like bile.

 

Yuuri wasn’t his, Victor reminded himself. He was wonderful and kind and everything Victor could ever want as his intended, but Yuuri wasn’t  _ his _ \- not in the way Victor thought about it.

 

Stepping back, shoving down the alpha urges, Victor asked Yuuri to keep the cloak.

 

When Yuuri nodded, looking a bit embarrassed but pleased all the same by the gift, wrapped in the colors of Victor’s country and marked with Victor’s scent - Victor allowed himself to feel unbelievably happy for the moment, let the pleasure of marking Yuuri as his for everyone to know run bright and hot in his veins, and promised not to do it again.

 

He would ask Yuuri, next time.

 

* * *

After Yuuri's presentation, things became difficult. 

 

Yuuri’s scent was intoxicating. It clung to him after he and Yuuri sat with their shoulders, their hips, their thighs pressed together for hours on end, books between them. Yuuri was quite the scholar, though he’d told Victor once that he preferred fiction over historic texts, and so whenever they met together to read Victor made it a point to stick exclusively to the tales and myths and stories with happily ever afters.

 

Sometimes, they’d fall asleep like that, and Victor would wake up to Yuuri’s head on his shoulder, to their hands pressed close, scent glands the closest Victor had ever allowed since his first and only indulgence with Yuuri’s cloak, and Victor would slip his hand away - for both their sakes. But then Victor would catch sight of the collar Yuuri wore around his neck -  _ Victor’s _ collar - and falter. Every single time.

 

This was one such time.

 

It had been nearly three weeks since Yuuri accepted his courtship and the collar, and Victor was struggling to keep some sort of composure around Yuuri when he was wearing it. He’d brush his fingers against it whenever he was lost in thought, lift his chin a little higher whenever Victor came near and give him some of his most beautiful smiles - heart-stopping, even, because Victor always blanked out for at least a minute whenever he saw it - and made it a point to coordinate his dress with the collar whenever they went out of the palace.

 

He was outright radiant, and Victor could hardly string together a coherent sentence whenever he was in Yuuri’s presence, much less ask if he could scent him until Victor’s scent soaked even the marrow of his bones.

 

Shifting, Victor carefully slipped his hand from out of Yuuri’s lap, where their fingers had been interlaced atop of the book they’d been reading. A quick glance out the window told him that they’d dozed off for a few hours, as the evening skies had all but turned black and the full moon dimly lit the library with its silvery light. The mix of them, of him and Yuuri, lingered in the air, and Victor decided then and there to just ask the question stuck in his throat for the last year.

 

“Yuuri,” Victor whispered, tapping his cheek with a fond smile. Yuuri breathed out, heavy and slow, but Victor whispered again, louder this time, “Yuuri.”

 

“Mm?” Yuuri grunted. He moved around a bit so that he could better lean against Victor. When he was settled, he breathed out a content sigh and murmured, “Victor?”

 

Victor touched the back of Yuuri’s hand, careful and light. “Can I,” he started, then lost the words when Yuuri turned his hand over and caught Victor’s fingers between his again. Yuuri hummed, a sleepy, low sound in his throat that made Victor melt. “Can I scent you?”

 

“Yes,” Yuuri breathed, and Victor startled at the way his light scent turned overjoyed. “Please.”

 

Now that he had permission, Victor hardly knew where to start. He touched his inner wrist to Yuuri’s, just the faintest brush of skin against skin, and shuddered at the tingles of pleasure that ran up his arm. When Yuuri made no move to pull away, Victor, emboldened, pressed his wrist firmly against Yuuri’s and rubbed, coaxing more of their scents out into the open, heavy but not overpowering. 

 

A foreign noise tickled the back of his throat when Yuuri tightened his hold on him, rumbled low and faint in his chest. Thoughtlessly, he brought his free hand up to press his wrist against Yuuri’s neck where his other scent gland was and was rewarded by the most startling sound he’d ever heard: a low, content purr.

 

If Yuuri’s earlier hum had him melting, then Yuuri’s purr all but struck him through the chest. Warmth spilled from his heart and filled him from head to toe, bright and wonderful and achingly satisfied, and his scent poured from him, intent on soaking into every inch of Yuuri’s skin until they seeped into Yuuri’s bones and blood and marked Yuuri his.

 

When Victor dragged his wrist down Yuuri’s shirt, Yuuri’s breath hitched in his throat. “Victor,” he said, probably in warning, but Victor, curious, caressed that spot again and let his fingers brush against Yuuri’s sides. This time, Yuuri weakly pushed him, his lips twitching into a smile.

 

_ Oh _ , Victor thought as Yuuri squirmed away from his touch. He pulled Yuuri back to him by their clasped hands and smiled. “You’re ticklish.”

 

“No- “ Laughter bubbled passed his lips when Victor purposely tickled him, and Yuuri flushed under Victor’s bright grin.

 

“Yuuri!” he exclaimed, delighted. His fingers danced over Yuuri’s side, and Yuuri squeezed his other hand hard before he let go and curled away giggling, unable to help it, and Victor’s heart hurt with how full it felt.

 

Yuuri was gasping for breath between weak laughter, joyous tears in his eyes, Victor’s scent clear on his skin. He was stunning, and Victor couldn’t help but feel a little proud of it, of Yuuri’s breathless laughter and the way his entire being radiated contentment, because Yuuri was his now. His to care for, his to make happy, his to love until Yuuri felt nothing else.

 

Gently, he curled his arm around Yuuri’s waist, smiling at Yuuri’s weak noise of protest when his fingers skimmed deliberately along his side, and tugged him into his lap.

 

“Victor,” Yuuri started, his joy fading as he looked around them uneasily even though night had already fallen. No one would come, not this late, but Victor pressed his lips to Yuuri’s temple anyway to ease him.

 

“It’ll be fine. It isn’t as if we haven’t slept here before,” he said as he adjusted them until they were both lying on the sofa, Yuuri sprawled out on top of him, cheeks pink. 

 

“Not like  _ this _ ,” Yuuri retorted, even as he made himself comfortable. 

 

Chuckling, Victor wrapped both his arms around him and stroked up and down his spine until Yuuri all but melted against him, face tucked against Victor’s neck, the faintest hint of a purr starting again in his throat. Victor felt an answering rumble in his chest as his eyes slipped shut, loving the feel of Yuuri in his arms.

 

“Sweet dreams, Yuuri.”

 

* * *

It didn’t take long for Victor to associate cinnamon and warmth to Yuuri. There was always an undertone of it in his scent - the cinnamon, that was - and while at first Yuuri’s new scent had felt odd after being relatively scentless, it became easy for Victor to catch the faint wisps of cinnamon in the air and think, automatically,  _ Yuuri _ .

 

That was why, when Victor first caught the faintest scent of something bitter lingering in the air after scouring the capital for what felt like decades, he didn’t think anything of it. 

 

After being granted permission to leave the palace -  _ alone _ , he’d stressed - by both his parents and Yuuri’s mother, Victor hadn’t wasted any time pulling Yuuri out and into the capital, both of them bundled up to fight the cold. They had never had many chances to go out when they were younger - only when they were accompanied by their parents, and usually just for the week-long festival celebrating winter solstice and the day of his birth - but it was different now.

 

Now, Victor was officially courting Yuuri, and he’d wanted this day to be  _ perfect _ \- and it had, at first. Festivities were still enthusiastically underway, and they’d danced in the square with a dozen other couples, nothing but laughter in the millimeter of space between their smiling lips; fed each other sweets as they lounged in an outdoor eatery, contentment clear and true in both their scents, that single fact alone almost enough to fill Victor; and they had walked along the market side by side, Yuuri glancing over nearly everything until his eyes caught sight of a quaint bookshop just a little ways down.

 

“I’ll be in there,” he’d told Victor with the prettiest blush on his cheeks when he had realized that what captured his attention were silken, glimmering collars. 

 

Victor had offered to go with him - he hadn’t been planning to buy a collar, anyway, had only wanted to see if the collection would spark any ideas for the new one he wanted to have made for Yuuri since one was certainly not enough - but Yuuri had reassured him that he’d be fine on his own. “It’ll only be for a little while,” he’d said, and squeezed Victor’s hand for a moment before he had gone in. 

 

Then everything fell away when Victor strode into the shop a few minutes later only to learn that Yuuri wasn’t there - that he had left moments before and hadn’t come back to Victor. 

 

“Do you know where he went?” Victor asked the elderly shopkeeper. His thoughts raced passed, getting progressively worse and worse with each second that ticked by.

 

“I think he - Prince Yuuri - went that way, your highness, away from the square.”

 

And so Victor went, eyes searching for the tell-tale blue of Yuuri’s cloak even as the skies dimmed. The two guards that had accompanied them - a compromise by the king and queens, and previously a small detail in Victor’s periphery at the start of the day - lended a hand without anything more than a faint, “Yuuri is missing,” on Victor’s part. Overall, their search wasn’t as discreet as it could have been - and maybe Victor would be lectured over it once they returned to the palace, and they  _ would  _ return, because Victor refused to stop looking until he found Yuuri - but this concern was secondary.

 

When his aimless, torturous search brought him to the outskirts of the capital and away from the festival, Victor caught wind of the faintest bitterness in the air. He almost dismissed it, didn’t think anything of it, but his body moved to follow the scent trail until he was close enough to notice the undertone of cinnamon underneath it all.

 

Yuuri.

 

Heart stuck in his throat, Victor broke out into a run. What was Yuuri doing all the way out here? Alone? With his scent reeking of distress and heartache? Every possible situation crossed Victor’s mind, each one worse than the last, and he bit down on the urge to call out to Yuuri as he followed his scent.

 

Yuuri wasn’t too far, thankfully, but he was hidden behind half-opened crates and barrels, knees pulled up to his chest and face buried in his arms. His cloak spilled across the pavement, turned a dark grey by the shadows.

 

Victor’s heart broke at the sight.

 

“Yuuri,” he said, soft, trying to quiet the frantic pulse in his ears. 

 

When Victor stepped towards him, reaching out a hand, Yuuri curled even tighter into himself, and Victor sucked in a careful breath. Yuuri was right here, safe, unharmed by what Victor could tell in the meager light, and that was all that mattered. The way his chest hurt when Yuuri shied away from his touch was nothing compared to Yuuri’s wellbeing. 

 

Victor dropped his hand back to his side.

 

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri mumbled into his arms. His scent stung the back of Victor’s throat, made guilt twist his heart at the taste of Yuuri’s bitter sadness on his tongue. “I didn’t- I didn’t mean to go so far, or- or leave for so long.”

 

“It’s fine, Yuuri - “

 

“It isn’t,” Yuuri cut in, jerking his gaze up to meet Victor’s, and the sight of tears in his eyes was a blow to the gut.

 

“You’re crying,” Victor said, voice faint in his ears. He stepped closer to Yuuri and dropped to his knees, thanking every star in the sky for the fact that Yuuri didn’t shy away from him this time, and reached out to cup his cheeks and brush the tears away. 

 

Yuuri stared at him with wide, startled eyes like he couldn’t believe that Victor was wiping his tears away - that Victor would  _ care  _ enough to - but then his bottom lip quivered, trembled, and a weak laugh burst out of him. He brought his hands up to press atop of Victor’s, his eyes closing as if relishing Victor’s touch, and more tears trickled down.

 

“I’m an idiot,” Yuuri said to him, then turned his head to kiss the palm of Victor’s hand as if to reassure Victor that he loved him still. His scent carried the slightest sour tones, but it eased, now, became something more bearable to Victor, who suffocated in Yuuri’s unhappiness. “I’m sorry, Victor, I- I shouldn’t have left you.”

 

“It’s fine,” Victor repeated, carefully leaning in closer. He released some comforting pheromones, brushed his thumbs across Yuuri’s cheeks as Yuuri relaxed under his touch and scent, and felt something strung tight in his chest finally unwind. He pressed his lips to Yuuri’s temple, then to his eyes when Yuuri didn’t push him away, then to his lips. “It’s fine. You’re all right, and that’s all that matters, Yuuri. You don’t need to apologize.”

 

“I must have hurt you, leaving without a word,” Yuuri said, voice small. His eyes searched Victor’s, and whatever it was he was searching for, he must have found it because Yuuri gripped his hands tighter and said, “I did, didn’t I?”

 

“You scared me,” Victor corrected. He tipped Yuuri’s head up just enough so that he could lean down and press their foreheads together. “I was terrified. You disappeared, and I didn’t know what to think, so I thought the worst.” He took in a shaky breath and searched Yuuri’s eyes, asked: “Yuuri, did I - did I do something? To make you leave? If I did, then- ”

 

“No,” Yuuri interjected, almost harshly. He shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault - it  _ wasn’t _ , Victor, please believe me. It was just - it was me. I was nervous, and everyone was looking at us and talking, and I overheard someone say that I wasn’t- wasn’t what they expected, and I already know that I’m not- that compared to you, I’m just- not good enough, but to hear someone  _ say  _ it... I couldn’t go back and stand beside you in good conscience.”

 

Stricken, Victor caressed Yuuri’s cheeks, not knowing what to do. He knew of Yuuri’s anxiety and how he struggled because of it, but Victor was certain that Yuuri was widely adored by the public from the few appearances they'd made. “Yuuri…”

 

Yuuri smiled, something tremulous but determined all the same. “At least, that’s what I thought, at first. Then you came looking for me, and I realized that, no matter what anyone else might think, you want me.” He shifted his legs and wrapped his arms around Victor’s neck instead, pressing close to Victor’s comforting scent. Victor responded in kind, moving to hug Yuuri, too. “You care for me so much, Victor. You make me so unbelievably happy that I feel like I’m drowning in it, and all I want to do is make you happy too.”

 

“I  _ love  _ you, Yuuri.” He ran a hand down Yuuri’s back, hoped the comfort of his scent would seep into Yuuri’s skin and drive the gloom away. “You always make me happy.”

 

Yuuri laughed like he didn’t believe him. “I’m still sorry I left.”

 

Victor fought the frown pulling at his lips. Though he wanted to talk about it, Yuuri's disbelief, he followed the change in subject. “I'm glad you are safe.”

 

“Still, is there… any way I can make it up to you?”

 

Even though Victor wanted to assure Yuuri that everything was all right, one look at Yuuri as they drew away from their embrace was enough for Victor to see that he wouldn't back down from this. So he thought, and as he brushed Yuuri's bangs away from his face and fingered the collar with his other hand, Victor came to a decision. 

 

“Next time you feel this way,” he paused, then corrected: “ _ Any  _ time you feel this way, as if you don't belong or that you're lacking, please come to me no matter what it is I'm doing.”

 

Yuuri's eyes glimmered as he stared up at him. “Victor…”

 

“You don't have to talk to me about it. I just… want to be there like I am now, so that i can hold you and remind you that I'm always here for you.” He smiled. “Will you let me do that for you, Yuuri?”

 

Yuuri’s cheek warmed under his hand, and he averted his eyes. “If you’re sure…”

 

“I think you underestimate how much I care about you,” Victor commented. “Or how much I'd love to touch you,” Victor said and laughed when Yuuri’s face grew hot.

 

Yuuri pulled away from Victor’s touch and scrubbed a hand over his red face. “Don’t  _ tease  _ me, Victor.”

 

“I only spoke the truth,” Victor told him, amusement still clear in his voice. He leaned back from Yuuri, took his hands into his own and smiled wide. “You’ll do it, then?”

 

Yuuri nodded. “Yes, if you’re certain. I won’t interrupt you if you’re busy, but I… I think it would help, being with you.”

 

“I’m glad.” In one smooth movement, Victor stood and helped Yuuri up as well. “The festival is still going on. Would you like to go back?”

 

Yuuri glanced up at him through his lashes, the persistent color in his cheeks painting a beautiful blush across even the bridge of his nose. “Yes,” he said. He looked as if he wanted to add something else, but then pressed his lips together.

 

“Let’s go, then,” Victor said after a moment, turning to lead them back to the heart of the capital. 

 

The walk was quiet, their footsteps against the brick pavement and the echo of the festivities ahead the only thing driving away the silence. Yuuri was lost in thought beside him, brows furrowed in contemplation, and Victor didn’t mind leaving him to sort out his thoughts. Instead, Victor focused on the wintry breeze brushing passed them, the way his breaths fogged just enough to see, his scent on Yuuri and the faintest echo of cinnamon clinging to the collar of his cloak, the warmth of Yuuri’s hand slipping into his-

 

“Is this all right?” Yuuri asked, voice small, when Victor’s eyes snapped over to him. He looked  _ embarrassed  _ at having been caught.

 

Victor flexed his fingers, curled them tight around Yuuri’s in a little bit of stunned wonder. They’ve never really held hands before - not like this, at least, while they were walking and staying beside each other would work just as well. It was usually reserved for their bouts of scenting.

 

What an oversight on Victor’s part.

 

“No, it’s - it’s fine, Yuuri.” He squeezed Yuuri’s hand, awestruck by how different it felt, holding hands just because they wanted to. Warmer, especially. Secure.

 

Like they were closer.

 

Elated, he swung their arms between them and relished in Yuuri’s huff of laughter and the sunshine of his smile, the way his scent snuck into his chest and stayed there, a little drop of Yuuri’s happiness next to his heart.

 

* * *

The end of winters had always been difficult, but after Yuuri's presentation, their partings only seemed to get a thousand times worse for both of them. Yuuri became almost clingy at the last days of winter, and Victor became restless and hyper-aware of him to an almost obsessive fault, which meant that Victor was just as clingy as Yuuri, if not more than. 

 

However, where Yuuri resorted to closeness and lingering touches throughout the day, Victor's reluctance more often asserted itself as an incredible need to have Yuuri's scent buried deep in his bones, and his in Yuuri's. As a result, during the last legs of winter, the two were hardly ever apart.

 

This year, it was noticeably worse.

 

"Can you scent one of my pillows?" Victor asked for about the thousandth time that week. They were in Victor's room sprawled across the plush loveseat before the fireplace, the crackling fire warm enough to drive away the chill of this year's harsh winter but not enough to distract from the fact that Yuuri would be gone by the end of the week.

 

Yuuri stirred from where he'd fallen into a light doze tucked against Victor, and when he reached up to rub his eyes, he asked, "Another one?"

 

"I want to make sure I have enough to last until next winter," Victor replied. He dragged his wrist down Yuuri's side and smiled when Yuuri made a soft, sleepy noise. There was a stinging ache in both his wrists, centered at his scent glands, a familiar sensation now after years of these desperate preludes to their inevitable farewells. 

 

Yuuri buried his face back into Victor’s chest. “I don’t think it works like that, Vitya.”

 

“Humor me,” Victor said, his reply a thinly veiled plea. When Yuuri neither agreed or disagreed, Victor added, “This will be the last one, I promise.”

 

“That was what you said yesterday,” Yuuri reminded him, a quiet sigh slipping from his lips. He propped himself up and offered Victor a small smile. “Which one is it this time?”

 

A fair question. Victor had given him everything from the plethora of spare pillows tucked away in his closet to the couch cushions in every room they frequented - barring a few, which he planned to correct now. “Mine.”

 

Yuuri laughed. “Vitya, honestly. Which one? Did you bring it?”

 

Unable to help it, Victor smiled. “I can go get it. It'll only be a moment.”

 

“Come back quick.”

 

Suppressing the laugh bubbling in his chest, Victor extricated himself from Yuuri and walked the scant few paces between the loveseat and his bed and plucked one of his pillows - the fluffiest one, gifted from Yuuri himself when he visited Geneva, their western neighbor and Christophe’s kingdom, when he learned of Victor’s lack of sleep - and turned only to find Yuuri staring at him over the back of the loveseat, mouth agape.

 

"This one," Victor told him cheerily.

 

"I didn't think you were serious," was Yuuri's faint response. He pulled himself up as Victor strode back over to him and took the offered pillow, eyes growing wider when he felt the plush softness of it within the pillowcase. "This is..."

 

"Your gift," Victor finished with a smile. "The one you gave me last spring."

 

"You're still using it?" Yuuri asked, bewildered. His fingers curled into the pillow as his mind wandered, unconsciously squeezing it in mild agitation. "All those pillows that were in the linen closet, and the ones in  _ your _ closet - I'm sure those are in better condition, and that they’ll bring you more comfort than this one. Look, it's already misshapen after being used for so long - nevermind this one, Vitya. I'll scent another pillow. There are more on your bed, anyway."

 

Victor blinked as Yuuri set aside the pillow he handed to him, feeling something like exasperation itch under his skin and impossible fondness swelling in his chest. "Yuuri, this one is fine."

 

"It'll murder your neck, Vitya," Yuuri retorted, adamant. "It's a wonder how you've slept on it for so long."

 

"I like this one," Victor told him honestly, Leaning down, wrapping one arm around Yuuri's shoulders, he pressed his smiling lips to the crown of Yuuri's head. "You gave it to me."

 

"I can give you another one when I go back to Geneva," Yuuri reasoned, though Victor saw a telling blush coloring his cheeks even in the firelight. 

 

"Then let me keep this one until you do," Victor said. Yuuri softened from his stubborn stance, and Victor picked up the pillow and placed it back into Yuuri's hands, letting out a huff of laughter when Yuuri pouted down at it. "It really does help me sleep, Yuuri. I don't think I've slept better without it." When Yuuri's reluctance didn't wan, he compromised, "If you're worried about my comfort - which, honestly, you don't need to - then I'll take care to cycle it out with a different pillow to keep it from wearing out."

 

Yuuri looked up at him through his lashes, and Victor, as he always did whenever Yuuri looked at him with those eyes, in that way, felt every possible fight left in him dissipate in face of it. "Promise?"

 

"Promise," Victor said, and then, a little mischievously, he added: "I'll keep it right beside me so that I can hold it when I sleep, though. I'll think of you every time."

 

Yuuri ducked his head, but that didn't stop Victor from seeing how his face lit up. “I'll- I'll get you a new one as soon as I can,” he stammered, flustered. 

 

“Take as long as you'd like,” Victor teased, laughing outright when Yuuri buried his face into the pillow and groaned an exasperated  _ Victor! _

 

“You're impossible,” Yuuri grumbled into the pillow.

 

Victor smiled and moved to sit next to Yuuri, leaning against him so that he could whisper into one reddened ear, “Will you scent it, then?”

 

Yuuri hugged the pillow tighter. “What do you think I’m doing?” His question was muffled by the pillow, but the pout in his voice was clear as day. When Victor poorly stifled his laughter, Yuuri lifted his head just enough to give him a look of single-minded determination. “I’ll scent this so thoroughly you’ll never want to let it go.”

 

Victor choked on his laughter, sputtering into a fit of coughs that had Yuuri smirking, a stunning sight paired with the color high on cheeks. When his coughs settled, he sagged against the back of the loveseat and covered his face with one hand. The smile on his lips, though, was plain as day.

 

“You’re going to be the death of me, love,” he said emphatically. Yuuri laughed, and Victor could smell his happiness and contentment flowing free in the air. It made his heart ache, enough to have Victor pull Yuuri to him, arms wound tight around his shoulders. “Though I think loneliness is a close second. I miss you already.”

 

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Yuuri said, though not very convincingly. After all, Yuuri wanted to leave just as much as Victor wanted him to: that is, not at all. Yuuri, though, was better at burying these things than Victor ever would be.

 

“I always know when you’re gone,” Victor retorted, trying to keep his words lighthearted and far from the sulk Victor wanted to fall into but failing spectacularly if the way Yuuri’s hand stroking his back was anything to go by.

 

"It'll only be for a little while," Yuuri said, and in the grand scheme of things, it really was. Being as busy as they were, with their respective schedules jammed with meetings and appointments and sometimes travels to other kingdoms, time wasn't something they had to think about when it was meticulously sectioned off and taken up by one thing or another. Even the winters they spent together went by in a snap of fingers.

 

Unfortunately, time slowed torturously during the rest of the year whenever Victor thought of Yuuri and his warmth and his scent and how he felt tucked against him. Seconds that used to tick by without much thought on his part now dragged around the clock like sloughing through waist-high snow, and every day that passed was both a pain and a relief, and with every season that brought him closer to winter Victor liked to think that he could breathe a little easier.

 

"Three seasons," Victor told him. After a pause where Yuuri did not - could not, perhaps - say anything, Victor thought aloud, "I should visit you."

 

"You have a kingdom to help run," Yuuri reminded him, as he always did whenever Victor's thoughts ran away from him. "Maybe in a few years when you’re not so busy. Besides, you visited once already. There's not much to see that you haven't already."

 

"There's always something beautiful to see when I'm with you."

 

"Flatterer."

 

"Only for you."

 

The fell into silence, Yuuri absently rubbing his scent into the pillow as Victor breathed in the excess to help calm himself. He touched Yuuri thoughtlessly: brushed his hair out of his eyes and tucked what he could behind his ear, trailed his fingers down his spine, hugged him tight when the restlessness made his fingers itch to do something, and pressed his lips to every inch of Yuuri he could reach because he could and Yuuri let him.

 

Three days later, Yuuri held him tight and promised, “I’ll see you soon.”

 

“I know,” Victor said. He didn’t want to let Yuuri go, but Yuuri’s mother was waiting, and his parents were staring, so he forced himself to step back and smile. “I’ll write to you as often as I can. Take care, Yuuri.”

 

Yuuri smiled, too, just before he went to leave for another three seasons, and Victor watched as he went out of sight before he returned back to the palace that smelled of cinnamon and comfort, though there was no Yuuri to be found. His parents, despite the looks they shot his way, thankfully let him be as he strode to his study to bury himself in paperwork. The longing that was held back by Yuuri’s presence all but flooded through him, made his heart heavy with the weight of it, and he sorely needed the distraction.

 

Even work couldn’t fully distract him from Yuuri so soon after their separation, though, and so Victor spent half the time with his mind wandering.

 

Spent it thinking of Yuuri and how to keep him here for more than the months of winter. Spent it basking in Yuuri’s lingering scent and wondering how he could let them stay by each other’s side for a while longer.

 

Spent it dreaming of glittering gold, the ghost of his mark on Yuuri’s neck, and promises of forever on their lips.

 

( _ Oh _ , Victor would think later, when he realized just what he’d daydreamed of. The answer had been staring him in the face all this time, had been hidden in Yuuri’s smiles and tingled with each of Yuuri’s touches, had been beating in his heart all these years, and now he finally understood.

  
_ Oh _ , Victor would think again, giddy this time, Yuuri’s scent making him dizzy as he leaped up from his seat, the smile on his face so wide it hurt his cheeks.  _ I need to get a --- _ )

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


	3. possessive/territorial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mention it before since I forgot about it, but I'm sure you guys have noticed that I'm doing a whole bunch of time skips. This chapter - and the next one, I think - starts when they're younger, but we'll still be skipping to later years.
> 
> (╯ ･ ᗜ ･ )╯︵ ┻━┻

 

Despite the fact that winters were set aside for both of them, he and Victor weren’t always alone, though that was the case more often than not. Sometimes, other dignitaries hailing from kingdoms near and far were invited over for business with Victor’s mother and father, and with Yuuri’s mother, too, though these matters were of lesser importance and more of a visit between friends. These people were usually accompanied by their children.

 

It was during Yuuri’s second winter with Victor and his family that their first visitor came. Victor had been called away by his father and Yakov, his mentor, to greet the visiting ruling family of some kingdom in the far south, and so, left alone, Yuuri wandered through the halls to pass the time, taking care not to disrupt the meeting happening in the west wing of the palace. He was just turning the corner when he heard someone call out to him.

 

“Yuuri!”

 

Starting, Yuuri whirled around as rapid, heavy footsteps headed towards him and came face to face with Phichit Chulanont right before he was tackled to the ground. Phichit was laughing, sprawled on top of him and heavy, while Yuuri rubbed the back of his head. It was throbbing a bit from the fall, but nothing too serious - nothing he hadn’t experience before because of Phichit’s tendency for enthusiastic greetings, anyway.

 

Phichit was a close friend of his, and their friendship dated back to a few years before Yuuri’s first meeting with Victor. They met by chance when Yuuri and his family traveled to the southern kingdom to iron out some business along their border. Yuuri hadn’t needed to go, but he seldom wanted to be alone in the palace, especially since Mari, who was to inherit the crown, was leaving too, and Phichit had been the one to find him sulking through the halls as he waited for everything to be finished.

 

With Phichit’s charisma and total disregard for Yuuri’s reservations, it had been a jarring start to an easy friendship.

 

“Phichit!” he exclaimed once he realized that Phichit was  _ here _ . “What- What are you doing here?”

 

Pushing himself up, Phichit grinned. "My dad needed to come and talk about something important with King Alexandr, and I came too because I knew you'd be here!" He hastily picked himself off the ground, extending his hand to help Yuuri up as well, and asked, "How’ve you been, Yuuri?"

 

“Good,” Yuuri said, smiling as he dusted himself off. “Victor is very nice to me. Have you met him?” Yuuri started, then hastily questioned, “Wait, why are you here? Shouldn’t you be with everyone else?”

 

Phichit waved a hand, laughing and looking as carefree as could be. He slung an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders and pulled him along as they walked down the hall. “I was bored! You weren’t there, so I snuck out before anyone could notice.”

 

“Phichit!”

 

“I wanted to spend time with you,” Phichit retorted, still grinning, though there was something much more subdued in his gaze. “I haven’t seen you in  _ forever _ , Yuuri!”

 

“I send you letters,” Yuuri protested, but it was a weak retort in face of the lonely shadow in Phichit’s eyes.

 

“It’s a thousand times better actually seeing you,” Phichit said, looking smug when Yuuri quieted, unable to counter. They turned a corner, as Phichit animatedly continued, “Now we can - “

 

“Excuse me,” a voice said from behind them, familiar and chillingly close. A smile touched Yuuri’s lips, but beside him Phichit startled to an almost comical extent. Just as Yuuri was about to turn around, an introduction ready on his lips, Victor - because it  _ was  _ him, even though he was supposed to be busy until late afternoon - cut in, the edges of something sharp brandished in his words. “What are you doing?”

 

Yuuri’s voice all but dried up in his throat. Phichit, as always, noticed his change in mood and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly before he slipped his arm away and turned to face Victor. 

 

“Hello!” Phichit said, and his cheer was apparent even with Yuuri’s back turned to him. He twisted his fingers together, the knot of agitation in his stomach sudden and strange. He’d never heard Victor talk like that before, hard and mean; angry in a way Yuuri thought Victor could never be. “I’m Yuuri’s friend, Phichit Chulanont.”

 

“The prince?” Victor asked in reply, sounding less like he did before and much more like he was surprised. “We’ve been looking all over for you. Your father was worried.”

 

Phichit laughed, sheepish but also unrepentant. “Whoops!” He patted Yuuri’s shoulder. “I guess I should go back now, Yuuri. Don’t worry, though. Victor’s here!”

 

“He’s going back with you, Phichit,” Yuuri said weakly, but Victor cut in.

 

“I’m staying here with you, Yuuri.”

 

Yuuri turned at that, eyes catching onto Victor’s stubborn ones.

 

“I’m staying,” Victor repeated, and heat creeped up Yuuri’s cheeks.

 

“Okay,” he said, quiet.

 

Phichit grinned, then stepped away with a wave. “All right! Yuuri, I’ll see you later. Victor, it was nice to meet you!”

 

He and Victor waved as Phichit bounded away, Victor tacking on a simple, “Nice to meet you, too,” that Phichit grinned wider at, something mischievous glimmering in his eyes. 

 

Once Phichit disappeared around a corner, Victor suddenly blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

 

Yuuri stared at him, confused. “What?”

 

“I scared you,” Victor said, visibly deflating. “I didn’t mean to, Yuuri. It was just - Phichit had his arm around you and I didn’t…”

 

The confusion didn’t go away. “Phichit always does that, though,” Yuuri told him. He averted his eyes. “I thought you were mad at me.”

 

“What? No, I just didn’t like it.”

 

“Didn’t like Phichit?” Yuuri asked, hurt.

 

“No, Phichit is your friend. Of course I like him,” Victor explained. When Yuuri continued to look at him with clear confusion, Victor colored pink. “I didn’t like his arm around you.”

 

Yuuri’s brows drew together. “You do the same thing when we read together,” he pointed out.

 

Victor faltered. “I…” he trailed off, looking conflicted before be shook his head with a sigh. “...Nevermind. I’m sorry, Yuuri, I just...”

 

When Victor continued to look troubled, his eyebrows furrowing together and his entire expression scrunching up, Yuuri pulled a face. He didn’t like Victor being upset.

 

“It’s fine,” Yuuri said, and with Victor’s head drooping so low, Yuuri couldn’t resist the urge to reach up and pat his head with a small smile. Victor laughed but didn’t brush his hand away; no matter how many times Victor had told him that he disliked it when people touched his hair, he never seemed to mind it whenever Yuuri did - encouraged it, even. “What do you want to do now? I thought I wouldn't see you today.”

 

“Anything,” Victor said softly, and Yuuri would remember this - Victor's bowed head and gentle eyes, the weight of his pinky hooking around his: a promise - for a long, long time. “Just as long as we’re together.”

 

(“You were jealous?” Yuuri would exclaim, years down the road when Victor sheepishly admitted it. “Jealous? Of Phichit?”

 

“Of course I was!” Victor would reply, indignant in face of Yuuri’s genuine incredulity. “Do you know how long it took me to be able to put my arm around you? And then suddenly he came and you didn’t even  _ mind _ \- “

 

“Victor!” Yuuri would laugh. More reasonably, he’d add, “Phichit has been my friend for years, of course I wouldn’t mind. Besides…” He’d reach up and draw Victor down to his smiling lips. “Should I remind you who my mate is?”

 

Victor would smile back, say, “A reminder wouldn’t hurt,” a breath before he pressed his lips to Yuuri’s.)

 

* * *

Victor had always been a tactile person, but on the year of his presentation, the occasional brush of their hands and the already small distance between them became not enough and too much all at once. Still, Victor was raised to act with poise and dignity, so even though he wanted to drop to his knees and worship every inch of Yuuri’s body, he refrained.

 

Fortunately, poise and dignity didn’t keep him from asking Yuuri for a hug whenever they saw each other - which, much to his frustration and disappointment, was becoming less and less frequent.

 

“I missed you,” Victor said as he wrapped his arms around Yuuri and drew him closer. He dropped his head against Yuuri’s shoulder, sagged against him, then leaned more of his weight on him when Yuuri laughed. “I never see you anymore.”

 

Yuuri - sweet, wonderful Yuuri - rubbed his back in consolation. The beginnings of a rumble tickled his throat, but Victor swallowed it down. “There’s no helping it. You’re busy, Victor.” 

 

And he was, torturously so. With the foreshadow of his presentation, his mother had set in motion preparations for a celebration early on. Now that he was properly presented as an alpha and despite the fact that this celebration was for him, she fully expected Victor to contribute to it. Every day for the past month, Victor was caught between inane discussions about what decorations should be used or what food should be served or what kind of outfit he’d like to wear - all without Yuuri.

 

“I wish I wasn’t,” Victor admitted. He had wondered, briefly, when he was surrounded on all sides by people who were asking for his opinion on this or his idea on what to do with that, how he’d cope with missing Yuuri later on when duties would start piling up. He’d sulked the rest of that day until Yuuri appeared and settled his harried thoughts with a hand through his hair and a small smile on his lips.

 

“Yes,” Yuuri sighed, holding him just as tight. This was the closest he had ever come to admitting that he missed Victor in all these weeks. Yuuri was strong in that way, hiding things away with a smile on his face, making it seem like things were all right. Victor was, too, but never when it came to Yuuri. “This is a celebration for you, though. You’ve always liked these things.”

 

“When I’m participating in them with you, yes.”

 

“You will once everything is finished,” Yuuri said. Victor could hear the tease in his voice, the brightness of his smile. “Just think of it as your prize for working so hard.”

 

Put that way, the idea of going back to work did seem more bearable. “You’ll have to save at least five dances for me,” Victor said, pulling back to pin Yuuri with a smile of his own. They always came easier when they were in response to Yuuri’s, and now was no different. “No less than five in a row, Yuuri. I’ll hold you to it.”

 

“Vitya,” Yuuri laughed, and Victor’s heart stumbled all over its steady beat at that, tripped right into his lungs and knocked the breath right out of him. Yuuri looked at him with humor glittering in his eyes, the sound of his amusement coaxing light and color back into the world around them. Yuuri himself stood unaware at the center of it all - the heart of Victor’s world - bright as the sun but so, so much warmer. “I’ll save you all of my dances.”

 

“Oh,” he breathed, faint and barely there, because all he could think about, full of affection and mounting giddiness, was  _ Vitya, oh, he called me Vitya, Yuuri just called me-- _

 

Yuuri’s hand touched his forehead. “Are you all right?”

 

Victor grabbed his hand, startling Yuuri in the process, and held it to his chest. “More than fine, Yuuri - “  _ Yura _ , his mind supplied. Then, because there was no stopping Victor now,  _ solnyshko, zvezda moya, zolotse, lyubov moya  _ “ - Wonderful. I can promise you I’ve never been better.”

 

There was a need to scent Yuuri, to mark him now that Victor was thinking  _ my star  _ and _ my love _ and _ my life  _ and _ my everything _ , but Victor had promised not to - not until Yuuri himself presented and gave him permission, at least. 

 

Scenting was out of the question, but that didn’t mean that Victor couldn’t remind the world that Yuuri was his. A ball would be hosted on the night of the celebration, a grand finale to the fruits of all the labor put into it, and Victor could see it now. Yuuri, displayed in front of hundreds, thousands of people, Victor’s claim obvious for all to see.

 

Victor remembered the last ball they went to together - one held last year in commemoration of Jean-Jacques engagement with his years-long love interest Isabella Yang - and though it had been one of the rare times when he and Yuuri got to see each other outside of winter, he’d felt too wound tight to spare more than polite nothings with the people around him. Yuuri had been breathtaking in his red and gold ensemble, a tribute to his country that left Victor thoughtless save for the image of Yuuri glowing under the chandelier lights. He had greeted Victor as he usually did, enthusiastically, if a bit reservedly in his shyness, but after that he’d been pulled away by one person or another, being asked to dance or to share a drink or to talk, and Victor had pasted a smile on his lips and tried his best to look the other way.

 

They had only danced together once that evening, both of them having a line of other partners they had needed to attend to. Victor had spent the rest of his dances with his eyes trailing after Yuuri, lingering on the hands clutching his shoulders or grabbing at his waist.

 

The simmering burn of possessiveness in his gut he’d felt then flared to life once again. His grip on Yuuri’s hand tightened.

 

“Victor?”

 

He snapped out of his thoughts at the concerned lilt in Yuuri’s voice. “Yes,  _ solnyshko _ ?” he replied, somewhat distractedly. He shook away the last of the stubborn thoughts and winced at the sharp tang of his scent in the air, dark and threatening. 

 

“You, um…” Yuuri was blushing, eyes trained to Victor’s left shoulder in that way he sometimes did when he was terribly embarrassed, but Victor couldn’t recall what made him so. Still, not knowing didn’t deter Victor from admiring the fresh color in Yuuri’s cheeks, remarkable and just as beautiful as the rest of him. “You frightened one of the servants.”

 

It took Victor a moment to register the words. “What?”

 

Yuuri smiled, and coupled with his blush, it was probably the most beautiful thing Victor had ever seen - second only to the way Yuuri lit up when he laughed. “She came hurrying around the corner behind you, but the moment she saw us she looked as if you had frightened her and turned back the way she came after apologizing.”

 

Yuuri didn’t quite understand, given that he hadn’t presented yet and therefore wasn’t fully aware of the scents around him. However, even unpresented persons could make out the weight of more intense emotions that leaked into scents, if not the feeling itself. In this case, Yuuri did exactly that, and it caused Victor mild embarrassment to know he had let his control slip so much that he could sense it.

 

“Ah…” Victor managed, aware of Yuuri’s amusement as he continued to smile at him. “I’ll apologize for scaring her as soon as I can.”

 

Yuuri chuckled. “Yes, you should. I’ve never seen someone run away so quickly at the sight of you.” He pulled his hand out of Victor’s grasp to brush the hair out of his eyes, fingertips skimming above his eyebrows, his thumb brushing across his forehead. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing is wrong,” Victor said, which was the truth. “I was thinking… I wanted to get you another gift.”

 

The blush returned to Yuuri’s face. “Is that what made your scent…?”

 

Victor felt heat creep up his neck. “... Not entirely.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yes.”

 

Yuuri only colored further, though. His eyes slipped away from Victor’s, his ears turned pink. “Is it… Is it anything like what you gave me earlier? The cloak?”

 

“Something better,” Victor said, mind already working. “Something you can keep with you no matter where you are.” 

 

What Victor wanted was a reminder - for Yuuri and to anyone who might so much as glance at him - that whether they were together or apart, Yuuri was his. It had to be comfortable, something Yuuri wouldn’t mind wearing, something that would compliment Yuuri, yet still declared Victor’s unmistakable intent. 

 

Unfortunately, the ball arrived quicker than Victor could think of a suitable gift, and while he was the slightest bit irked that Yuuri did not get to wear a new gift, Yuuri stuck close to Victor for the duration of the celebrations, relishing just as much as Victor in the closeness that had eluded them for too long. Victor kept an arm around him for most of the night, and Yuuri didn’t seem to mind it too much, though he did tease Victor when he pulled away for a moment to dance with Phichit, who, along with many other allied families, had been invited for the festivities.

 

“It’ll only be a moment,” Yuuri promised.

 

“A moment without you is one without air,” Victor told him, clinging onto his hand. Phichit was smiling a ways away behind Yuuri, one hand covering his mouth in a vain attempt to hide it. Victor  _ liked  _ Phichit, honest. What he didn’t like was Yuuri frolicking with someone else when he’d  _ said  _ \- “You promised me all of your dances, Yuuri.”

 

“I danced with my family and yours, and now you bring it up?” Yuuri asked, though his words were nothing but fond. He’d spent the first half of the night sweeping the floor with their families, though most noticeably with Victor’s father who had a little-known soft spot for Yuuri and a well-known love for dance. “I’ll make it up to you.”

 

Victor shook his head. “Come back quick,” was all he asked as he pressed his lips to the back of Yuuri’s hand. The red of Yuuri’s cheeks was enough to have Victor grinning as Yuuri hastily turned around and sprinted to Phichit, who sent Victor a hearty wave which he returned. 

 

As the two joined the other pairs on the floor, Victor’s mind wandered even as his eyes trailed after Yuuri. The issue with his gift still sat restless in his thoughts. It had grown into something fiercely needy since he had first thought of it, something he  _ had  _ to accomplish, but still Victor couldn’t think of anything to satisfy it. 

 

He would think about this for the rest of the winter, turning away from any ideas of necklaces, or brooches, or bracelets, or hairpins. He’d shower Yuuri with other gifts, with flowers and books and things that Victor couldn’t help but think weren’t permanent, and delight in Yuuri’s quiet joy in receiving them. In return, Yuuri would surprise him with anything from a day spent in the capital to entertaining Victor’s concerns about his hair with soaps and oils that promoted health and growth.  

 

It wouldn’t be until he visited Christophe to congratulate his successful courtship that he’d lay eyes on the charming collar wound around his neck and stop short.

 

_ This _ , he would think.  _ This is what I’ll give to Yuuri _ .

 

* * *

Yuuri stared at the velvet box sitting on his desk and wondered how this little box lit his nerves aflame in a nervousness unprecedented.

 

“You’ll hurt your eyes if you stare at it any longer, brother of mine.”

 

Yuuri’s gaze snapped over to the door where Mari stood, draped in finery she seldom ever wore before but sporting her usual lazy smirk. “Mari,” he greeted, then pulled a face. “Brother of mine?”

 

“Minako said I should speak more proper now that I’m being coronated, so I’m practicing,” Mari explained with a shrug. She came over to the desk and leaned a hip against it, heedless of the layers of silk pressing into its edge. She raised an eyebrow at him, grinning. “What? Don’t like it, brother-dear?”

 

“Now you’re just teasing me,” Yuuri complained. 

 

“Whatever do you mean?” Mari asked, her voice going high and shrill, a mockery of the high ladies she had poked fun at when they were children. “Are you saying I don’t always sound like a prim and proper queen-to-be?”

 

“Mari,” Yuuri said, “you once told me you had troll blood in you, and that the only reason you hadn’t eaten me yet was because  _ Okaa-san _ and  _ Otou-san  _ would be upset.”

 

“You were so gullible then,” Mari lamented, her voice dropping from the high octave she’d used earlier. “What happened to that?”

 

“I grew up, sister of mine.”

 

“More like Victor told you otherwise,” Mari said, and Yuuri hunched his shoulders at that, going red. Mari’s eyes turned sly in that self-satisfied way Phichit’s sometimes did. “Oh ho?”

 

“What did you come here for?” Yuuri hastily asked, willing away the heat from his face lest more teasing from Mari.

 

Mari paused. Her expression straightened out and became something much more solemn. “Yuuko told me something interesting,” she said. She reached out and tapped the small box between them. “I wanted to come see what you were thinking for myself. Hardly anyone uses rings anymore, Yuuri.”

 

She was right. In a world of bonding marks, something as antiquated as rings to bind people were few and far between. There was no reason for it, after all, since bonding marks were more permanent and prominent. 

 

“Our parents do,” Yuuri pointed out. His mother was the one who taught him about the thin gold band around her finger. She was the one who told him about how it was a sign of love, and that was what Yuuri wanted it to be: a sign and, more privately, a claim.

 

When they were apart, Victor’s collar was wound around his neck, a comforting weight and a constant reminder to everyone that Yuuri was his. On the other hand, Victor didn’t have anything of that sort other than Yuuri’s scent, and even that faded away far too quickly when they parted. Knowing this had made him grit his teeth against the urge to mark Victor during the years after his presentation.

 

The ring, he hoped, would quell the brunt of it. Yuuri wanted everyone to know that they were connected. He wanted people to look at the ring on Victor’s finger and know that it was Yuuri who put it there, that it was Yuuri Victor wanted. 

 

“That’s because they’re romantics,” Mari said. More curiously, she questioned, “Is Victor that type of person, the one who’d like a wedding ring?”

 

“Yes.” Yuuri didn’t even need to think about it, what with their years-long courtship and Victor’s ever-increasingly thoughtful gifts, but: “This isn’t… This isn’t  _ really  _ a wedding ring, though.”

 

Mari made a low, surprised noise in her throat. “Really?” she asked as she watched him pick up the box. He ran his thumbs across the top, his lips pulling into a small smile. “What else could it be?”

 

When he opened it, two golden rings shined back at him. “Engagement rings.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ´ ♡ ` )ﾉ


	4. nesting/pampering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many apologies for leaving this for so long. I tried to get back to it as soon as I could. Some of you might have noticed that it's one chapter shorter. The last chapter was originally going to be a free chapter with wedding fluff and all, but then I chopped it off because it was being a monster to write! Weddings, apparently, are not my thing, but I might add to this since there are spaces in the timeline I'd like to cover when I get that chance (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧
> 
> On a much more serious and somewhat unrelated note, please be careful when you guys are driving! Stay safe on the roads!

 

Yuuri curled up into a corner of the couch and buried his face into one of the throw pillows, fighting against the heat behind his eyes and how his lips wanted to frown. Sunlight had long died out. In its place, the weak light of the waning crescent moon leaked into the edges of the library, far from the center where light bulbs shone overhead, too bright and stark for Yuuri’s tired eyes.

He’d been waiting here for hours, and still Victor was nowhere to be seen.

The plush pillow gave away under the harsh dig of his fingers. Yuuri didn’t want to cry, not when Victor could come in at any moment and see him, so he bit down on his tongue instead - at first too harsh, enough to jolt him of the mounting sleepiness piling on his shoulders, then again to distract him from how his throat was too tight, how his vision blurred worse than it did without his glasses.

Ever since Yuuri arrived a month ago, Victor had been busy. He was pulled away in the mornings before Yuuri could greet him, pulled away during the short moments that they could settle down together, pulled away for so long and so often that it felt like Yuuri hadn’t seen him in forever. Every time, Yuuri felt a little lonelier.

This morning, though, Victor had woken him up with a gentle hand, and even though it had been too early, Yuuri had only felt a little bubble of happiness in his chest at the sight of him.

“I’m sorry,” Victor had said first, because he knew that Yuuri slept late.

“You’re here,” had been what Yuuri said in reply. A sleepy smile had pulled at his lips, and Yuuri had reached out for him, wanting him to stay. “Victor.”

“I’m sorry,” Victor had said again. “Today, I’ll finish early. Let’s read that book you like tonight.”

“Promise?” Yuuri had asked. “You won’t leave again in the middle, will you?”

Victor had gripped his hand, promised, “I won’t.”

Now, Yuuri wondered if Victor had forgotten. He was so busy that Yuuri would understand. Victor was like Mari, someone who’d one day inherit the crown and the throne and the kingdom, and it was selfish of Yuuri to make him promise time he didn’t have when he had never done the same of Mari.

Yuuri glanced at the clock above the entrance - half an hour to midnight - and decided that if Victor wasn’t here by then, he would go to bed. It was what he’d told himself hours earlier when his bedtime crept closer, and then every hour after that, but the worry that he’d miss Victor when he came convinced him to stay longer.

Sniffling, Yuuri shut his eyes and hoped that Victor would come soon.

It wasn’t too long after that that he was shaken awake.

“Yuuri,” Victor whispered. He looked upset, his brows pinched together and his lips downturned, and his expression only grew darker when he noticed how difficult it was for Yuuri to keep his eyes from slipping shut. “Yuuri, what are you doing here?”

Yuuri rubbed at his eyes, frustrated when even blinking felt like a battle. “I was - “ He cut himself off and bit the inside of his cheek to wake himself up. Victor was here and he was falling asleep! “I was waiting for you.”

Victor shut his eyes, but he leaned down to envelope Yuuri in a hug. He didn’t say anything, just held onto him with his face pressed to Yuuri’s shoulder, but Yuuri didn’t mind. It was cold at night, and being wrapped in Victor’s arms brought him warmth.

“Victor,” Yuuri spoke when he nearly nodded off in the silence, “will you read to me this time?”

Victor hugged him tighter. “Of course, Yuuri. Anything you want.”

“Anything?”

“Yes,” Victor assured him. He pulled back and coaxed Yuuri up and off the chair, slipping the book that’d been lying beside him under one arm. “Let’s go to your room, Yuuri.”

“Okay,” Yuuri mumbled, stumbling after him. He was determined to keep pace with Victor, but when Yuuri nearly walked into something for the third time, Victor stopped him and knelt down, setting the book by his feet.

“I’ll carry you. Come on.”

“I’ll fall asleep if you do,” Yuuri told him.

Victor looked over his shoulder and smiled something small. “That's fine. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

Yuuri pressed his lips together, hesitant, but he climbed onto Victor’s back and settled his hands on his shoulders. As he thought, it was comfortable. Victor was a body of pure, solid warmth, and it didn’t take long before Yuuri’s head dipped down to Victor’s shoulder from where it bobbed up and down with each step, eyes slipping shut.

Yuuri woke to Victor picking him up again.

“Victor?”

Victor started, and when he looked down at him, Yuuri could see that Victor was tired, too. “Yuuri,” he said. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?”

It took a moment for Yuuri to make out his bed. He was surrounded by blankets and pillows, the curtains gathered and tied to the bedposts now drawn, the warm light - the only light now that the curtains shut everything out - coming from his bedside lamp that had been moved and propped up in one corner of the bed.

He blinked, stunned. “Victor, what did you do?”

Victor smiled before laying himself out beside Yuuri. “I thought it would be more comfortable like this. Do you like it?”

“It’s like a pillow fort,” Yuuri said, shifting on the pile of soft pillows Victor must have taken from the linen closet. Then, smiling now, he said, “Victor, you made a pillow fort on my bed!”

“You like it?” Victor asked, and when Yuuri nodded his head several times, Victor grinned back at him. “I made it for you.”

“Really?” Yuuri asked, elated. “Why?”

“I… I made you wait for a long time,” Victor said, his smile dying away. “I didn’t mean to, Yuuri. I’m sorry.”

“But you’re here now,” Yuuri told him. “You’re going to read to me, like you promised.”

“I will.”

Yuuri beamed at him and snuggled into the plush blankets and pillows underneath him. They were all so soft, so warm, and with Victor here beside him it made everything better, made everything feel more.

Victor scooted closer and held the book above his head but quickly adjusted when Yuuri let out a small noise of complaint. “I can’t see,” he said, referring to the pictures that accompanied the words, and Victor drew him closer so that his head rested on his chest, hair tickling his chin, and with full view of the picture book held above them both.

“Better?”

Yuuri absently gripped at Victor’s clothes. These, too, were soft and warm with Victor’s heat. “Yes,” he replied, smiling.

When Victor began reading aloud, Yuuri so close he could feel his voice by his ear and under his hand where it rested on Victor’s chest, he slowly read along with Victor until he was lost in his voice, in the comfort surrounded him. Unbridled relief welled up in him as Victor continued to read, and the loneliness that’d clung to him every day without Victor slipped away.

With Victor beside him, his his voice in his ears and the feel of his breathing under his palm, Yuuri fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri realized it the moment it started.

“No,” he furiously told himself as he put back the throw pillow. He’d been eyeing it all day, had squeezed it and sniffed it and scented it, and just now he’d been about to bring it with him back to his - his room. “Absolutely not. Yuuri, no.”

“No, what?” Victor asked from behind him. They were in Victor’s study today, Yuuri having completed the work set aside for him and Victor finishing up paperwork, and all the pillows here were of the finest materials, plush and soft and --

“Nothing,” Yuuri replied a little too quickly. He made it a point not to stare at the pillow any longer, but he couldn’t quite meet Victor’s eyes, so he settled for looking, as casually as he could, out the window.

“If you’re sure,” Victor said when Yuuri didn’t offer any more of an explanation. There was a pause, and then Victor added, “If you want that pillow, though, you can have it.”

Yuuri turned red. “No, it’s fine - “

“Anything of mine is yours, Yuuri,” Victor continued, heedless of Yuuri’s embarrassment. He stood and made his way over to Yuuri, wrapping his arms around him and nuzzling his hair. It sounded like he was amused when he said, “I don’t mind, honest.”

Ducking his face to Victor’s shoulder, Yuuri mumbled, “This is embarrassing.”

“It’s endearing,” Victor assured him. His thumbs rubbed circles against his hips. “I’ll give you as many pillows as you want, love.”

“You’re embarrassing,” Yuuri grumbled, though there wasn’t much heat to it. He circled his arms around Victor and hugged him tight. He fingered the fabric of Victor’s shirt. It was smooth, softer than the pillow he’d been eyeing, and most importantly it held Victor’s scent. “I don’t - I don’t even know why I’m feeling like this. I just presented, there’s no need for me to…to nest.”

Victor hummed, and Yuuri could feel him rubbing his wrists against however much of him he could reach. “You and I know there are more reasons to nest other than upcoming heats,” he said, gentle. “You’ve been distracted lately, Yuuri. Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Yuuri replied automatically. When Victor continued scenting him, quiet and patient, he slumped forward. “No… Not really. I’ve been getting headaches because of everyone’s scents. They’re all so strong, and they’re not - they aren’t bad, but the only one I can stand is my mom’s and yours.” He tipped his head up just enough to brush his nose against Victor’s scent gland, sighing. “It’s nothing, though. I’ll get over it soon, Vitya. You don’t have to worry.”

Victor’s lips brushed against his ear. “I always worry,” he said, chuckling. “It’s a bit of an alpha thing, love. You’ll just have to live with it.” He pressed his lips to Yuuri’s temple. “Do you want to lie down? I can bring some blankets and pillows from the linen closet, too, if you want.”

“It’s fine, I can get them myself - “

“What kind of alpha would I be if I don’t help my omega with his nest?”

Yuuri smiled despite the heat creeping into his ears. “One that knows how to prioritize. You still have to finish looking over the things your father gave to you. Don’t let me keep you from your work.”

“Keeping you happy is my number one priority,” Victor said. After Yuuri accepted his collar, Victor had only become more free with his words, with his touches. It made Yuuri’s heart start dangerously quick, made him feel close to bursting with Victor’s attention and blatant affection. “Let me at least scent that pillow you were looking at before you leave.”

“... All right,” Yuuri mumbled. “Only the pillow, though.”

Victor slipped his fingers up his back and to the collar wound around his neck. “And you?”

Yuuri squeezed him tighter, and Victor laughed. “Me, too,” Yuuri said. He felt Victor tug the collar higher and hummed when their scent glands pressed against each other, the mix of him and Victor doing wonders for his frayed nerves. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, solnyshko. Do you want anything else?”

Yuuri nuzzled closer to Victor, relished the way his warmth wrapped around him like a blanket. “... Can you come? After you’re done with everything?”

Yuuri could hear the smile in his voice. “Of course.”

Yuuri pressed his smile against the scent gland at Victor’s throat, enjoyed the way he shuddered at the contact, and pulled away just enough to look up at Victor. The edges of his ears were tinged pink, his gaze starstruck as he looked back at Yuuri.

“I’ll see you soon, then?”

“Yes,” Victor said, though he made no move to let go of Yuuri. “I’ll be there as quick as I can.”

After a short pause, Victor pressed a kiss to Yuuri’s forehead, eliciting a quiet huff and a brighter smile. Emboldened by that, he kissed Yuuri’s cheeks, his nose, and finally his lips, where he swallowed Yuuri’s bubbling laughter, the taste of it sweet on his tongue.

“Vitya!” Yuuri cried when they pulled away for breath, both smiling, but anything else he might’ve said were swallowed too when Victor swooped back in for another, longer kiss.

 

* * *

 

One of the best days of Victor’s life was the first time Yuuri let him help with his nest. More often than not, Yuuri would do most of the work himself despite Victor offering his help. He was allowed into Yuuri’s nests after they were finished, loved lying in the pile of soft clothes and blankets and pillows with Yuuri curled to him, but it wasn’t until after Yuuri proposed - proposed! Victor could still hardly believe it - that he asked the words Victor had been itching to hear ever since Yuuri officially presented.

“Will you help me with my nest?”

“I’d love to,” Victor replied.

They split up, and Victor left with instructions to gather soft, plush things for their nest - though, Yuuri had added with a blush, he had a strong preference for things that carried Victor’s scent. It wasn’t much of a surprise; every nest Yuuri had made before always had a few items that Victor had previously scented for him. Still, the spoken admittance had heat curling pleasantly in his chest, and because he couldn’t - didn’t - want to choose between what he found, Victor decided to scent everything he brought.

“I couldn’t decide,” Victor defended when he caught the amused tilt of Yuuri’s poorly hidden smile as he walked through the door with at least three comforters trailing after him. Another acted as a makeshift bag in his arms, carrying at least half a dozen pillows and whatever clothes smelled the strongest of him. A soft noise escaped Yuuri’s smiling lips, the beginnings of a laugh, Victor was sure. “Yuuri!”

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri said, voice trembling with restrained mirth. “I didn’t think you’d be so excited. It’s not the first time you helped me with making a nest.”

“The other times don’t count,” Victor told him as he set everything down by Yuuri’s own pile of materials. “I was never here to help you while you were making it. I only added a few things after you were done, and only because you asked.”

Yuuri blinked, looking caught off guard. “I didn’t think you wanted to, especially with how busy you were.” He glanced down at his hands where he’d been arranging the beginnings of his nest, then over to where Victor stood. “I didn’t want to take up your time. I asked today because… It felt wrong, to think about making it without you.”

Victor hummed, smiling. He closed the short distance between them and took Yuuri’s hands into his own, thumb stroking over the golden band on his ring finger. “Why’s that?”

“You know why,” Yuuri mumbled, squeezing his hands. “Vitya, you hardly stopped talking about it.”

“You mean how I’m engaged to the love of my life?”

Yuuri colored pink. “No, Vitya, I meant how I’m engaged to the love of my life.”

“So long as I’m still engaged to you, it doesn’t matter how you word it,” Victor said. He leaned in, pressed a lingering kiss to Yuuri’s smiling lips. “In the end, I still love you.”

“Vitya.”

“I only speak the truth, love.” He pulled back and gestured to the bed. “And the truth is, no matter how excited I am to help you with your nest, I’m afraid I don’t have a clue as to how to help.”

Warmth sparked in his chest when Yuuri chuckled. “I’ll show you. Help me spread the blankets out?”

“Of course.”

Once they set to work, time passed without much thought to it, and by the time the nest was finished, Yuuri making minor tweaks to it as he circled around it, it felt like hardly any time passed at all - even with all the time they must have spent rolling around a half-made nest, playing a game of chase with the addition of tickles and thrown pillows, and fixing it again and again.

(The blame was Victor’s. He couldn’t resist it, the urge to touch Yuuri, to see him lying happy and comfortable in their first proper nest.

The pillows strewn across the room, though, that was all Yuuri.)

Yuuri fiddled with a stray shirt - Victor’s, one of his worn nightshirts - and looked up at Victor. “Is this,” he started, then stopped, fingers curling into the hem of the shirt. He looked so beautiful, standing there, another blush creeping up his neck, fighting back a pleased smile. Victor almost wanted to -- “Is this all right?”

“It's perfect, solnyshko,” he said, marveling now how Yuuri positively glowed at the praise. It was enough to have Yuuri come over to his side and into his arms. Victor smelled the pleasure leaking uninhibited into his scent, the way it sounded in Yuuri's throat as he began to purr.

“Lay with me?” he asked, soft.

“I'd want nothing else.”

There was something different, this time, when they both settled into the nest, Victor at Yuuri’s back, one arm wrapping around his side so that they could interlace their hands. Maybe it was the fact that this nest was theirs, wholly and truly, or because of the matching pair of rings they wore - or, even, the way Yuuri’s scent grew and morphed into something that had anticipation curling in his gut.

Nuzzling into Yuuri’s soft hair and hearing his satisfied hum, Victor couldn’t help but smile. He pressed closer to Yuuri, curled around him protectively, possessively, and barely noticed the rumbling joy in his chest when Yuuri pressed a kiss to his hand.

There was still a day or so left before Yuuri’s heat arrived, but now that they were comfortable wrapped around each other, the likelihood of them moving - much less leaving the room - was low.

“Excited?” Yuuri asked. His voice had fallen into a sleepy mumble; he’d been doing that as of late, becoming helplessly exhausted at the drop of a hat, but Yuuri had reassured him that it was part of his preheat and that it would pass soon.

“Unbelievably so,” Victor replied. “This is a dream come true.”

“I’m sure you didn’t actually dream about it,” Yuuri protested weakly, if only to save himself the embarrassment.

“I wouldn’t lie to you about this, love,” Victor said. “You always looked so tired after your heats, and I always wondered what it would be like to take care of you through it.”

“Tiring, I bet.”

“Only in the best of ways, I'm sure.”

Yuuri squirmed. “You're ridiculous.”

“I love you,” Victor countered. He held Yuuri tighter. “I never liked seeing you so miserable. The least I can do now is make sure you’re completely comfortable. You’ll tell me if you need anything, won’t you?”

“... You being here is more than enough.” There was a pause as Yuuri played with Victor’s fingers, stalling. “The only thing - the only person I’ve ever wanted during my heats was you.”

Heat crept up the back of Yuuri’s neck. Victor felt it rise and grow with each passing second and couldn’t contain the chuckle that spilled from his lips. “I’ve only ever wanted you, too. Every day, no matter what I was doing, or where I was at.” He pressed a kiss to the warmth at the nape of Yuuri’s neck and stayed there so Yuuri could feel the way his lips pulled into a smile. The collar he usually wore was gone, unneeded now when Victor was to spend the upcoming days thoroughly marking Yuuri as his inside and out. “I’m glad I have you now.”

“You always had me,” Yuuri told him, and how was it that whenever Victor thought he was at his happiest, his most content, Yuuri did something to prove him wrong each and every time?

“You’ll make me cry, talking like that.”

“Happy tears, I hope,” Yuuri replied with a soft laugh. The press of his ring between Victor’s fingers was grounding. “It’ll make up for how you made me cry when I proposed.”

“I couldn’t help it,” Victor retorted. “I wrote that entire speech nearly two years before, trying to find the nerve to propose to you myself, and right when I was about to, you surprised me before I could even get down on one knee.” At Yuuri’s smothered laughter and his shaking shoulders, Victor added: “I think I cried more than you did, besides.”

“I couldn’t see very well to tell,” Yuuri admitted. “My glasses got smudged when we hugged, and even when I took them off I was crying too much to see.”

Victor laughed along with Yuuri. “What a pair we make.”

“I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else,” Yuuri said, and Victor could only agree. Their rings, warm now pressed between their fingers, a promise by them both that they’d stay by each other for forever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! I know it's been a bit of a mess, but I enjoyed working on this ( ´ ♡ ` )

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!


End file.
